


a heart i couldn't silence

by SummerFrost



Series: Bartending AU [3]
Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst with a Happy Ending, Bartenders, Coming Out, Coming of Age, Complicated Relationships, Established Relationship, Families of Choice, Found Family, Horse Girl Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, Implied/Referenced Racism, Multi, POV Alternating, Polyamory, Questioning, between Ciri and her family of origin, literally tagging it twice because that's how found family it is, not character bashing but also not particularly Calanthe- and Eist-positive
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-10
Updated: 2020-08-10
Packaged: 2021-03-06 07:47:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 38,060
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25829914
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SummerFrost/pseuds/SummerFrost
Summary: Yen eyes her sidelong. "You're pretty shy for a kid who, what—climbed out the window and tracked down a man she barely knew?""Walked out the front door," Ciri mutters. "Grandpa was playing video games."Aka: When Geralt's goddaughter turns up outside the bar on karaoke night, Yennefer is the one who convinces him to let her stay.
Relationships: Cirilla Fiona Elen Riannon & Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Cirilla Fiona Elen Riannon & Jaskier | Dandelion, Cirilla Fiona Elen Riannon & Yennefer z Vengerbergu | Yennefer of Vengerberg, Cirilla Fiona Elen Riannon/Original Female Character(s), Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Yennefer z Vengerbergu | Yennefer of Vengerberg, Renfri | Shrike/Yennefer z Vengerbergu | Yennefer of Vengerberg
Series: Bartending AU [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1647292
Comments: 173
Kudos: 971





	a heart i couldn't silence

**Author's Note:**

> This fic can be read even if you skipped part 2 for whatever reason, though I do think it's best read in order!
> 
> All the love and thanks to soundslikepenance and daryshkart, who beta'd and cheerread <3
> 
> Fic title from Feel Good by Gryffin and Illenium ft. Daya

**Yennefer.**

It's towards the end of the summer, close enough to the semester starting that Wednesday night karaoke is packed with the college crowd again—Yennefer's least favorite time of year.

Geralt is taking the drink orders of two members of said college crowd, resting his chin in his hand politely while they chitter about what they want. Renfri's down the bar from him, pouring a round of shots for a group of regulars who are playing a game of Disney-chicken over a song book. 

Meanwhile, Yen is nursing her first glass of wine—which she's still pretending she needs in order to tolerate Julian, who's gesturing wildly as he tries to convince her to "spill the tea" on two professors whose classes he's deciding between.

Yennefer would say it's fucking insufferable, but that might, regrettably, be an overstatement. 

"Will you shut  _ up  _ if I just pick a class for you?" she finally snaps, gesturing with her glass.

"Yes," Julian answers decisively, batting his eyelashes. "Buy my silence, dearest."

"Harvey is an old bag who doesn't know shit." Yen takes a sip of her wine. "But Marian is going to be his TA, and she's going to run the department one day."

Geralt raises an eyebrow in her direction. "I thought you were gonna run the department."

Yen shrugs delicately. "I'll be in the dean's office by then."

"That's great!" Julian says brightly. "But this is literally just my last elective, so I'm more looking for 'who will let me show up hungover and laugh at my jokes?'"

"Unfortunate that you're not funny, then," Yen answers drily.

Jaskier gapes at her while he tries to make a comeback, but he's interrupted by everyone's phone's going off at once.

**_Triss (8:45 PM):_ ** _ Whoever sees this first tell Geralt to come outside immediately _

"Oh, my," says Julian.

Renfri slings an arm around Geralt's shoulders and crows, "Can't  _ wait  _ to see whatever the fuck you're in for now, sunshine," as she steers him towards the exit.

"Hm," says Geralt, and follows her. So do Yen and Julian; Yen brings her glass with her.

Triss is sitting right outside Rivia, clutching a handful of wristbands with her arms crossed over her chest. She's staring down someone standing with their head down and fiddling with drawstrings of a Billie Eilish hoodie, pulled away from the growing line. 

The kid looks up when the door slams shut behind them, her hoodie slipping away from her face. She's got white-blonde hair and vaguely familiar wide-set eyes that look murky green in the faded light, and a hard-set mouth.

"Fuck," says Geralt.

"I'm sorry," Julian says. "Are you directing that at the small child standing down the street?"

"He better not be," Triss tells them. "She asked for him by name, and I'm really not prepared for whatever that is tonight. I have to DJ in ten minutes."

Renfri pinches one of Geralt's cheeks. "You know, she looks kinda like you, G—with the hair."

"Oh my  _ God."  _ Julian smacks him on the arm. "Geralt, is that your sister? Wait, is she your  _ daughter?  _ Do you have a double life we don't know about?"

"Don't be an idiot," Yen snaps. "Geralt doesn't have an absentee daughter he's never told us about."

Geralt's still staring at the kid.

"... You don't, do you?" Yen asks.

"No, that's insane," says Geralt. "I think she's my goddaughter."

Renfri laughs like a hyena.

"That is  _ not  _ less insane!" Julian smacks him again. "Geralt, what in the absolute and entire  _ fuck—" _

"I'm going to kill you," Yen says evenly.

"—do you mean you have a—"

**Ciri.**

Ciri watches three separate people, like, lovingly bully the silver-haired man standing down the street from her. At one point two of them hit him at once, which he tolerates and then grabs the hand of the other man in the group and laces their fingers together to keep him from going in for another smack. His lips twitch when the man pretends to tug himself free in a huff.

This really isn't how she remembers him—her parents' friend who stopped working at Grandma's club a few years ago. She remembers him really quiet and a little scary at first, but he was also the only one who played soccer with her at the barbeques while everyone else was busy talking, which was nice.

He still wears a lot of leather, though, so it's probably the right Geralt.

"Geralt," says the man—his boyfriend?—who is very loud and wearing a very bright shirt, "I'm  _ drunk,  _ I can't be in the presence of children! What if I say something inappropriate, like 'shit' or 'fuck?' Oh, fuck, I just said both of them do you think she can hear us?"

"I can hear you!" Ciri confirms. She crosses her arms and takes a step closer.  _ Confidence, Ciri. _ "Hi, Geralt. Do you remember me?"

Geralt blinks. "Uh."

"Oh my God," Maybe the Boyfriend says. "Please explain."

"Renfri," Geralt says instead, and,  _ oh,  _ that  _ is  _ Renfri. Her hair is way cooler now, or Ciri remembered it wrong. "You remember Pavetta?"

Renfri stops laughing long enough to squint at Ciri's face. "Holy shit, yeah. You're Pavetta's kid? I thought you were, like, seven."

Ciri starts to say, "Um—" but the other woman, who's wearing black shorts over fishnet tights and holding a wine glass for some reason, cuts in.

"Oh, my God, she looks  _ exactly  _ like Pavetta. Ren, she's at  _ least  _ twelve now." She does that thing adults do where she bends her knees a little to talk to her. "How old are you, sweetie?"

"Sorry, who in the world is Pavetta?" Maybe the Boyfriend asks, raising his hand like he's in school.

This is exhausting. Ciri should have called the plan off when she couldn't find Geralt on Facebook. Not being on Facebook is  _ super  _ sketch and apparently means you have weird friends.

"You know the crazy MILF who owns Cintra?" Renfri asks.

(Gross.)

Geralt's boyfriend tilts his head.  _ "That's  _ Pavetta?"

"That's Calanthe," Geralt says patiently. "Pavetta's mother."

"No, no it's not." Loud Boyfriend tugs his hand free and gestures dismissively with both hands. "No, she's not  _ that  _ old, you're fucking with me. You're all playing a horrible prank on me because I accidentally used all the hot water  _ one time  _ and as I recall, Geralt was  _ also  _ involved in the—"

"Julian," Fishnet Lady hisses. "Shut  _ up." _

"Then explain this absurd situation,  _ Yennefer." _

Oh, thank God, now Ciri knows their names.

Not that any of them are talking to her.

"My mom had me really young," she offers helpfully.

"Got knocked up in high school, right?" Renfri asks. She's got one elbow propped up on Geralt's shoulder, which he's hunching over to help her do. "She and your dad still together?"

Ciri crosses her arms defensively. "Yeah."

"Oh my God," Julian says. "Are you really her godfather, Geralt?"

"Uh," says Geralt. His face is turning red under the streetlights, but his expression hasn't changed. "Legally?"

"Fucking excuse me?" Yennefer snaps, drawing up to her full height in a way that makes Julian shrink behind Geralt like a scared puppy. "Geralt, would you like to explain to me why  _ you,  _ Mister 'I Never Want Children and Neither Should You' have a  _ goddaughter?" _

Renfri whistles dramatically. "Oh, shit."

"It's a meaningless title!" Geralt bristles. "I was being polite. It's not like I would actually have to—oh, fuck." He turns to look at Ciri with wide eyes. "Are they dead?"

Ciri laughs reflexively.

Julian puts a hand to his mouth. "Oh my  _ God,  _ Geralt, you can't just ask people if their  _ parents  _ are dead!" 

"They're in DC," Ciri answers.

"Some would say that's worse," Renfri says solemnly.

"Is Calanthe dead?" Geralt asks.

Yennefer hisses,  _ "Stop." _

"She's fine," says Ciri.

"Great." Geralt pulls out his phone. "I'll get you an Uber home then. Same address?"

"Don't!" Ciri blurts.

Geralt peers up at her over his phone. "Is Eist dead? He's the last one."

"No one's dead!" Ciri snaps, maybe a little too loudly, because some people in the line are staring at them now. "I just… my grandparents are out of town and, um, they said, um, if I needed something I should find you?"

"Hm." Geralt goes back to typing. "So they know you're here?"

"Of course," Ciri lies. 

Geralt puts his phone up to his ear. "I'll just call and check."

"You don't have her number," Ciri hedges.

Geralt raises an eyebrow. "I'm still your dad's emergency contact. Try me."

"Please just wait!" Ciri begs. Oh, no, she can feel her throat seizing up. She  _ hates  _ crying. No one takes her seriously when she cries. "Please don't make me go home."

Yennefer's head snaps up, a little like one of Grandpa's hunting dogs. She grabs Geralt's phone out of his hand and asks, "Why don't you want to go home?"

Fuck, Ciri's going to be in so much trouble. This was such a mistake. She should've just turned her music up really loud and cried a lot about it like everyone else.

"I-it's nothing," she says quickly. "Or, I mean, it's stupid. I'll just go home if you just don't tell Grandma I snuck out or call my parents."

"No, sweetie, why don't you want to go home?" Yennefer asks, more gently this time. She crouches down until she's at eye level. "Is someone hurting you?"

"What?" Ciri scrubs at her face. "I—my family loves me!"

Renfri's voice is a low growl. "Are they  _ hurting  _ you?"

"Should we leave?" Julian asks. "Me and Geralt could leave if that makes you feel more comfortable. You know, I actually think my song is— _ ow.  _ I'm trying to be helpful, Geralt!"

Ciri looks between the four of them. She only kind of remembers Geralt and Renfri—she remembers them as good people. Kind people, who her kind mother loved.

_ 'I want you to talk to us if something bad ever happens,' Mom told her. 'But if you can't do that, I want you to find another adult you trust. Like a teacher, or one of our friends.' _

She doesn't know Yennefer at all, except that she has nice hair and cool clothes and could probably teach Ciri how to do her makeup pretty well, but she's looking at Ciri like she matters.

"My grandma loves me," Ciri says quietly, "because I'm her granddaughter. But I'm starting to think… I don't know if she'd love me if I was someone else. And my mom said to find another adult if I needed someone to talk to, and, um, Geralt's my godfather, so…"

Yennefer's mouth presses into a sympathetic line. "What's your name?"

"Cirilla," she says. "Or Ciri."

"Which should I call you?" Yennefer asks.

"... Ciri," she decides.

Yennefer smiles. "Well, Ciri, you're in good company for parent trouble. I'm Yennefer, or Yen. Either's fine. You remember Renfri and Geralt, and that's Julian. Sometimes people call him Jaskier, which is a stupid stage name he made up for karaoke."

Ciri giggles.

"It's actually a funny story," Julian aka Jaskier says brightly. "It all started with a fake ID and it  _ ends  _ with—"

"I've still gotta call someone for you," Geralt says gruffly. "Who's it gonna be?"

Yennefer whips around with surprising grace, considering the heeled boots. 

"Geralt," she says cooly. "Can I speak with you a moment?"

Geralt's face twitches, but he tilts his head towards the opposite side of the street. They jaywalk over there, firmly out of hearing range with the evening traffic.

"... Right," Julian says. "So after Yennefer eats Geralt, do his godfather responsibilities transfer, erm, posthumously?"

Renfri rolls her eyes. "Someone should make sure we don't get fired. Pretty sure Calanthe's not gonna hire us back after we get arrested for kidnapping her grandkid."

"Okay, well,  _ one  _ of us works here," Julian tells her, "and  _ one  _ of us is too pretty for manual labor and also I have no idea what I'm doing."

Renfri punches him on the arm and says, "That means you've gotta watch the kid."

She vanishes back inside.

Julian rubs the spot where Renfri hit him and looks back over at Ciri; there's a brief, very awkward silence before he launches back into it.

"Right, well, you can call me Jaskier if you want!" he says, smiling brightly at her. "It's actually kind of funny, like I was saying, because it was just the name on my fake ID which was maybe supposed to be a one-off thing, but then I met Geralt which—hm. How old are you?"

Ciri blinks rapidly, glancing across the street. Geralt and Yen are still talking.

"I'm fourteen," she says.

"PG-13," Jaskier says, somewhat nonsensically. "Got it. I met Geralt and I liked his personality  _ very  _ much, so I started coming to karaoke every week and, you know, I was committed to the bit now, obviously, so…"

**Yennefer.**

Yennefer stares Geralt down with her arms crossed, which is a little annoying to do when she's holding both her wine glass and his phone, but it's been a shit night and she's not giving either of those up. 

To his credit, he just stands there and lets himself be appropriately intimidated.

Eventually, he tries, "I'm—"

"A  _ goddaughter,  _ Geralt!" Yen says.

"I told you," he insists. "I didn't think—Pavetta's barely thirty! It's not like I'm responsible for her."

Yennefer rolls her eyes. "That's really clear, from how she showed up on your literal doorstep just now."

"Legally," Geralt says flatly, "she's not my problem if her parents are alive."

"Your  _ problem?"  _ Yennefer repeats incredulously. "She's a  _ child,  _ Geralt, and she needs someone she can trust, and you're just going to ship her back home?"

Geralt throws his hands up. "Calanthe's gonna lose her  _ shit.  _ I'm not having the cops show up because—"

"Seriously?"

"—you're still mad about a conversation we had three years ago."

Yennefer scoffs, her eyebrows approaching her hairline. "You call what we had a  _ conversation?" _

"I'm twenty-six, Yen," Geralt snaps. "I can barely take care of Roach. I'm not ready to think about kids."

"I wasn't saying  _ now,"  _ Yen insists. She can feel the tears welling up; she blinks them away furiously. "I just wanted—so, you're going to dump me if I have a child one day, is that it?"

Geralt furrows his eyebrows. "What? Of course not, I just—can we not do this now? Here? I've gotta go back to work."

"Very convenient for you," Yen snipes. "Deciding when we get to have this conversation, and deciding on never."

Geralt glances desperately across the street; Yen follows his gaze—Renfri and Triss are gone and Julian is talking to the girl, gesturing broadly in that obnoxious way of his. She's smiling now, at least.

"I just don't get," Geralt says, still not looking at her, "what kind of life you think we could give a child."

Yen feels something thick in her throat. She kills it with the rest of her wine.

"A better one than we had," she says, and hands him back his phone. "If you won't accept responsibility for that girl, I will. Tell Calanthe that she can stay with me for a few days."

Geralt blinks in disbelief. "That's not gonna work, Yen. You've never even met her."

"Ciri is scared, Geralt," Yen tells him. "You remember what it was like being alone and scared, don't you?"

Geralt looks down at the phone in his hand, then across the street again. His goddaughter has beautiful hair and terrible makeup; she hasn't broken the habit of rubbing at her eyes yet.

"Of course I do," he says.

"Then do better," Yen says simply.

Geralt sighs, hanging his head as he runs a hand through his hair. He glances up at her and threatens to smile. "Why did I fall in love with you, again?"

"Because I'm fucking fantastic," she answers. "Call her."

Geralt taps to the contact in his phone and puts it up to his ear. "Pavetta and Duny first."

Yen shrugs in agreement.

"Uh, hey," Geralt says into the phone. "Everything's fine. Is Duny there? … Yeah, that'd be good … Hey, man … Everything's fine. Cirillia's here."

Geralt winces.

"No, it's fine, I think she just— … Yeah. She needed someone to talk to." He makes a grumpy face at Yen, who rolls her eyes at him. "She doesn't really— … Yeah, but she doesn't wanna go home … I don't know."

Yen taps her foot. "Just tell them that I can watch her."

Geralt covers the mouthpiece and grumbles, "I'm getting there." He goes back to his phone conversation. "No, not you—my girlfriend … It didn't come up? … Sorry. We can, uh, she can stay with us for a few days."

"Oh, is it 'us' now?" Yen teases, her lips twitching smugly.

Geralt glares half-heartedly. 

"Sorry, did you say— … Uh, yeah. Well, and my boyfriend and—" He holds the phone away from his ear and pinches the bridge of his nose with his free hand. "It didn't come up!"

Yen puts a hand to her face, muffling a snort.

"No, I can call Calanthe," Geralt says. "I just wanted to let you know. If you could back me up— … Yeah, absolutely. It's really fine. I was doing worse at her age."

Yen raises an eyebrow. She's sure that it's true, from what little she's heard, but Geralt rarely talks about his childhood. Not that she can blame him—she rarely talks about hers.

"Yeah, call next time you're in town." Geralt locks eyes with Yen and shares a smile with her. "We won't say no to a beer."

Yen smiles back, tucking her hair behind her ears. She's still holding the wine glass, which now that she thinks about it might be illegal to have out in public.

Geralt hangs up the phone, then sighs as he scrolls through his contacts. 

"I blame you," he tells Yen, and dials. It rings so long that she thinks it might go to voicemail, until Geralt closes his eyes to take a deep breath and says, "Hi, Calanthe. It's Geralt."

There's a moderate pause. Geralt's eyes are still closed.

"Uh, because Cirilla— … No, she's fine, I just talked to Pavetta. But she showed up—she's at Rivia with me." Geralt opens his eyes to look skyward. "No, she's over with my friend. But she doesn't wanna come home right now, and I guess Pavetta told her that I'm— … No, me neither, but it's happening … Pavetta told her to find me."

Yennefer mouths,  _ 'Give me the phone.' _

Geralt shakes his head at her. "I don't know, teenage rebellion? … It's really fine. My girlfriend can— … No, not Renfri, her name's Yennefer. My girlfriend can help watch her. She's good with kids."

He gives her a look that says,  _ 'You are, right?' _

Yennefer shrugs. How the fuck would she know?

"It'd just be a couple days," Geralt says, his voice a little strained. "No, I— … Look, just being frank? I was a rebellious— … I know, that's what everyone says. But I was a little shit, and I think if you force her to come home, it's gonna make it worse."

Yen looks back across the street; Ciri is still safe, talking to Julian. 

"No, it's fine." Geralt sounds like he's wrapping up. "Thank you … Yeah, you can text me. Bye."

He pockets his phone and fixes Yennefer with an unreasonably indulgent look. "Enjoy your trial-run teenager."

Yen sniffs primly, crossing her arms, and says, "I  _ will,  _ thank you. Give me your keys."

"Uh," says Geralt.

"Unless you're going to let the teenager into the bar?" Yen asks, tilting her head towards the far side of the street. "I'll take her back to your place. Do you still have that old air mattress?"

Geralt tosses her his keys; she's holding her glass in her dominant hand, so she fumbles the catch and glares at him when she has to bend over to pick them up.

"It's under the bed," he says. "Seems like she likes Jask—wanna take him with you as backup?"

She scowls at his ridiculous grin and threatens, "If you let him come with us, I  _ will  _ leave you, Geralt, I swear to God."

"Like he'd miss his weekly chance to embarrass me in public," Geralt says drily, which is obviously true and Julian's main redeeming quality. 

Yen leads the way back across the street. 

Julian seems like he's in the middle of a story, telling Ciri, "And he bought me  _ paddock boots,  _ which is the most—"

"Jask," Geralt says plaintively, "could you not—"

"Oh, hush, you big grump," Julian says, waving him off. "I'm inspiring the youth with our tale of true love."

"Terrorizing her, more likely," says Yen. "Ciri, we talked to your parents and grandmother."

Ciri turns to her with wide eyes, lips still pressed together.

"If you want, you can stay with the four of us for a few days," Yen tells her, trying to gentle her voice. Is she overdoing it? Maybe she's overdoing it. She hated it when adults fucking baby-voiced her. "But if not, I can drive you home instead."

Ciri worries at her bottom lip and asks, "All four of you?"

"Well, Geralt and Renfri live together," Yen explains. "And Julian's been staying with them over the summer. I live alone right now, but I stay over there a lot, so I thought that might be better."

"Oh," Ciri says. "That just sounds… really nice. I'd—you're sure it's okay if I stay?"

Yen raises an eyebrow. "You didn't come all the way here to not get what you want, did you? Be assertive about it."

Ciri is playing with one of the drawstrings on her hoodie, but she makes eye contact and keeps it.

"I want to stay," she says, then scuffs a mint green boot across the pavement. "... Please."

Close enough.

"Let's go then," Yen tells her, tilting her head in the direction of her car. "Geralt has to get back to work."

"Um, okay." Ciri shoves her hands into her sweatshirt pocket and looks over at Geralt.

His face softens a little in a way that makes Yen's heart twist. "Uh, I'll be home late. We can talk tomorrow, though—if you want."

"Same here!" Julian chimes in, shooting Yennefer a knowing look. He is, she'll begrudgingly admit, occasionally able to read a room.

Yennefer rolls her eyes at him and then turns back to Geralt, closing the distance between them. She gives him a quick kiss, cupping his jaw sweetly. 

"Thank you," she murmurs. "See you in the morning. Tell Ren the same?"

"Mm," Geralt agrees. He touches lightly at her arm and then steers Julian back towards the bar with a hand on the back of his neck.

When Yen turns away, she catches a wide-eyed expression fleeing off Ciri's face. She files that away for later and leads the way to her car, which beeps as she unlocks it. There's a bunch of shit on the floor—half a stack of essays from the second summer session she keeps meaning to grade and three pairs of sunglasses, only two of which are hers—that she hastily moves to the back seat.

Ciri climbs into the passenger's side and tucks her legs up onto the seat as she buckles the seatbelt. Her hoodie is large enough to fit over her knees and the sleeves keep falling down her palms. She only glances over when she thinks Yen isn't looking.

Yen goes to start the car, one wrist draped over the steering wheel, when—

"Ah, shit," she says, and holds out the stolen wine glass in Ciri's direction. "Hold that, will you?"

Ciri takes it tentatively, clutching it in her lap. "Do you want me to go give this back?"

"Half the staff is going to be in our apartment tomorrow," Yen says dismissively as the engine stutters to life. "They'll figure it out."

She throws the car into reverse and slips neatly out of her parallel parking job, which she thinks makes her look very impressive to someone too young to drive. When she glances over, there's that gawking look again.

"What is it?" Yen asks. It comes out a little terse; her chest still clenches when anyone stares.

"Um." Ciri looks out the window, appropriately caught-out. "Sorry."

Yen eyes her sidelong. "You're pretty shy for a kid who, what—climbed out the window and tracked down a man she barely knew?"

"Walked out the front door," Ciri mutters. "Grandpa was playing video games."

Yennefer snorts. 

"It works out in the movies," Ciri tells the blurring streetlights. "I know it's stupid. I just—did you ever have this feeling like you need to  _ scream  _ and no one's ever gonna listen to you?"

"Of course," Yennefer says. "I'm a woman. Why were you staring at me? I don't like it."

There's a gentle thump when Ciri rests her temple against the window. "Are you dating Geralt?"

It's a fairly pedestrian question. It makes Yen wonder if there's a bit of jealousy in a misplaced-crush situation going on—she could certainly understand fixating on a parent's handsome friend. Especially someone as gentle as Geralt.

"I am," she answers. "Does that bother you?"

Ciri hesitates. "Um, Jaskier said  _ he  _ was dating Geralt."

Ah. Less pedestrian.

"He is," Yen tells her. "We both are. And I'm also dating Renfri."

They come to a red light; Ciri blinks thoughtfully, looking over with her lip trapped between her teeth.

"I didn't think, um, you were allowed to do that," she says.

Yen turns to her, raising both eyebrows. "That's the beauty of growing up. No one has to  _ allow  _ me to do anything."

Ciri seems to consider this.

The light turns green again. The apartment complex is down the block; Yen takes a right instead.

Quietly, Ciri says, "You're really pretty."

Yennefer's reflection flutters its eyelashes in the rear view mirror.

"Wanna know a secret?" she asks, dropping her voice lower. "It's overrated."

Ciri shrugs with one shoulder. "It doesn't feel like it."

"Everything's overrated when you're a girl," Yen tells her. "You'll get used to it."

Ciri's jaw stiffens. 

"Oh, out with it," says Yen.

"I hate it when people say that," Ciri says. Her voice is wobbling with conviction. "I'm  _ tired  _ of it. It shouldn't have to be that way."

Yen's lips curve upwards. She takes a random left turn. "You're right. Maybe someone should do something about it."

Ciri doesn't answer. It's unsteadying—Yen doesn't know how to maintain this sort of conversation. She's not trading barbs with Julian or having a pleasant philosophical debate with Triss, or ranting to a backdrop of supportive hums from Geralt. 

"What does your grandmother think?" Yen asks. "She's a businesswoman, isn't she?"

"I don't wanna talk about it," Ciri mutters quickly, which indicates a sore spot. 

Yen tucks that away. She taps her fingers on the steering wheel and asks, "Well, what do your friends think?"

Ciri mimics Yen's motion on the wine glass, nails clinking faintly. "I don't have friends."

"Hm," says Yen. "I guess you'd be running off to them instead, otherwise. That's how the movies go."

_ Clink, clink, clink. _

"That's the best part of highschool, though—" Yen tells her. "No one will give a shit about it in a few years, and you'll meet far more interesting people wherever you go next."

"It doesn't help when people say that," Ciri grumbles. "I still have to be here  _ now." _

Yen sighs quietly and lets it drop.

"... I do have one friend," Ciri says. "His name's Dara. He doesn't like to come over anymore, though."

Yen glances over curiously. They're on the same block as the building again. "Why not?"

"He… doesn't like Grandma." Ciri tucks her knees closer to her chest. "She said—"

Yen spies a prime parking spot; she throws on her hazards and lines up for it.

"I don't wanna repeat it," Ciri eventually decides, as Yen straightens the wheel and shifts into park.

"Probably for the best," Yennefer agrees, shutting off the car. She goes to undo her seatbelt and then closes her eyes in exasperation. "Ah, shit. Do you have clothes or anything?"

Ciri shuffles in her seat nervously. Yen cracks an eye open and takes in the distinctive lack of so much as a backpack.

"Um," the girl says, "no?"

It was a fucking fantastic parking spot.

Yen starts the engine and grabs her phone from the center console where she stashed it in a cupholder, entering her password and bringing up the navigation app.

"Put in where you live," she says, holding the phone out. "You'll swim in anything of ours."

Ciri obeys, maybe somewhat reluctantly. Yen purses her lips when she sees the address—twenty minute drive on the highway to a suburb. Good thing she only had the one glass of wine.

"I can just wear this," Ciri tells her quickly. "It's just a few days."

Yen pulls back into traffic and prepares to make a u-turn. "Stand up for yourself. No one likes a pushover—no one you want to be around, anyway."

Ciri doesn't say anything.

"And what were you planning on doing with no bag, anyway?" Yen complains, cutting in front of an idiotic sedan going at  _ least  _ five under the speed limit. "If you're going to be a rebel, you've got to play it smarter than that."

Ciri huffs and looks out the window again. "I didn't run away just so someone else could be mean to me."

"I'm not being mean to you," Yen says indignantly. "I'm providing constructive criticism. It builds character."

"I don't wanna build character," Ciri mutters. "I want you to be nice to me."

"What a luxury," Yen drawls, but she glances over to check her mirror as she merges over to get to the on-ramp and catches a watery-eyed reflection. "Oh, fuck's sake, don't cry. I'll be nicer, I promise."

Ciri scrubs angrily at her eyes, smearing cheap mascara over one hoodie sleeve. 

Yen feels a lump swelling in her throat—she's fucking it up, isn't she? Maybe Geralt's right, maybe this was a horrible idea. Maybe she's not cut out for this.

"I'm sorry I forgot my bag," Ciri says wetly, and—

No. Fuck that.

Yennefer's going to be better than anyone gave her as a child. Out of spite, if she has to.

"Don't be," she says, gentling her voice. "I'm sorry I gave you a hard time. I'm… new at this, is the thing. I didn't have anyone to look up to when I was your age."

Ciri sniffles.

"It's hard, running away," Yen soothes. Her eyes flick between the car tailgating her in her rearview and the speedometer, which says she's only going ten over the limit. "I'm sure you did the best you could."

Ciri still doesn't answer.

Yen hits the accelerator when the other car tries to pass her on the right.

"I don't wanna talk to Grandpa when we get there," Ciri tells her. "He'll be so… disappointed."

"You  _ will  _ have to get used to disappointing your elders," Yen answers, unable to stop herself. "But it takes practice. I'll go in for you, if you want."

"Maybe." Ciri starts tapping on the wine glass again. "I wish I could tell Grandma that I don't like when she says… things like that. I'm too scared."

Yennefer thinks back to what she knows about the family. The most contact she's had with any of them was the time she went through that nasty jealous streak and Facebook-stalked everyone Renfri and Geralt knew. Pavetta and Duny seemed like good people, if not apparently absentee. 

Calanthe and her husband Eist—well, Geralt's more inclined to gossip than he pretends to be. He was relieved to quit Cintra, and Yen got the sense that tensions ran deeper than squabbles over hours.

"You're what, thirteen?" Yen asks the girl.

"Fourteen."

"You're fourteen," Yen corrects, glancing over. "I'll tell you a secret—it's supposed to be us adults' job to make the world a good place for you. A lot of the time it'll fall to you anyway, because the world is shit and the people in it are worse. But that doesn't make it fair."

Ciri turns restlessly in her seat, leaning back against the window. "So?"

"So figure out how to survive it," Yen tells her. "But don't ever forget you were owed better."

Ciri smiles faintly and says, "Thanks."

Yen feels some trill in her stomach. She turns her eyes back to the road.

They're still over fifteen minutes away. Yen tsks at the map and asks, "God, how did you even get downtown?"

"I walked to the bus stop," Ciri says, like it's obvious.

Yen smiles. "Good for you."

Silence falls over them again. She waits it out for a little, just in case, and then turns the radio up.

~*~

They don't speak for the rest of the drive, except for Ciri commenting that she likes a certain song that Yennefer plays louder for her, and then they're parking the car in front of a regal house in the fuck-you suburbs.

It's hideously extravagant compared to Yennefer's studio apartment. She's going to own one just like it one day.

Yen unbuckles her seatbelt and glances sideways. "Are you staying in the car?"

Ciri is looking out the window, staring at a SUV parked at the neighbor's house. "Yeah."

"Alright then." Yen shuts the car off. "Anything in particular you need?"

"Um, my phone charger," Ciri says. "Please. And the book on my nightstand and my toothbrush?"

"Sure," Yen agrees. "I'll just get whatever for your clothes, then?"

Ciri says, "I think my pajamas are on the bed."

Yen nods, making a mental note, and then climbs out of the car. She hesitates for a moment before leaving the keys on the seat.

"In case you wanna put the radio on or something," she says. "Don't steal it."

Ciri's lips twitch at that, which makes Yennefer raise her eyebrows smugly as soon as her back is turned.

She strides up the driveway, squeezing past a sleek little sports car that Renfri would love, and raps her knuckles on the front door.

No one answers. Ciri was confident that her grandfather was home, though.

Yennefer knocks again, then rings the doorbell.

"I'm  _ coming,"  _ shouts someone from inside, and then a slightly disheveled man, looking to be in his mid-fifties and wearing checkered sweatpants, opens the door. "Who the fuck are you?"

Yennefer straightens her spine. She's slightly regretting not stopping for a wardrobe change first—vampire hooker was a significantly better aesthetic for a summer night at the bar than for intimidating a middle-aged house husband into taking her seriously. 

Her legs do look fucking fantastic in fishnet, though.

"I'm watching Ciri for a few days," she says. "Didn't your wife tell you?"

The man—Eist, unless she's operating on particularly shitty information—blinks. 

"She's staying with Geralt," he says.

"With  _ us,"  _ Yen allows. "Geralt's my boyfriend. I'm just here to get her some clothes."

She moves to step inside, but Eist blocks the door. "Is she with you?"

"In the car," Yen tells him coolly. "She doesn't want to talk to you. I'll only be a moment."

Eist narrows his eyes, sizing her up, then steps aside. She brushes quickly past him and then pauses in the foyer when the fact that she has no idea where to go catches up with her.

"Her room's upstairs," Eist tells her, not unkindly. "I'll show you."

Yennefer follows him. The house is modestly decorated, in the sense that no one piece looks particularly expensive but is well-maintained, but Yennefer glimpses a fascinatingly large television in a living room that branches off from the main hallway. 

Ciri's room is covered in posters for various bands and musical artists, only some of which Yennefer recognizes. There's Green Day and MCR, though, which makes her smile. The more things change…

She finds a pink floral suitcase in the closet that she opens up on the bed—which is neatly made—to start filling up. She grabs the phone charger, book  _ (The Song of Achilles,  _ another interesting point of note), and pajamas off the pillow before she forgets, then starts on pulling things off hangers in the closet.

"How long is she staying with you?" Eist asks her, slightly alarmed.

Yennefer tugs a striped romper free and folds it haphazardly into the case. "It's better to be thorough."

He's quiet for a moment, watching her work. Then says, "You should get the blue jacket from her hamper. It's her favorite."

Yen flicks her eyes over to him; his expression is thoughtful, maybe a little sad. She thinks he probably should be.

She gets the hoodie, though. It's a seafoam green with the Hollister brand name and logo on it—Christ, is that place still around?

The suitcase fills up faster than Yennefer can empty the closet and dresser. She checks that there's a reasonable balance of pants and shirts, then grabs two handfuls of underwear and three bras without looking too closely at any of it; her curiosity does have limits.

"That'll do," she decides. It zips with a little difficulty, which is more thanks to her shit packing skills.

"Did she want her laptop?" Eist asks, nodding to the desk across the room.

Yen considers it. "She didn't say. Is there a case for it?"

"No, but it'll fit in the suitcase, probably." He scoops up the computer and charging cord, tucking them under an arm, and grabs a headset and mouse sitting on the desk as well. "You can tell her she can still play with me, if she wants. But I won't make her."

How magnanimous. Yennefer re-opens the suitcase and lets him fit things inside.

"We've tried our best to raise her, you know," he says, maybe more to himself than Yennefer. "She's an awesome kid. Takes after Pavetta more than us."

"Good thing she didn't take the train to DC," Yen comments drily.

He laughs, though short-lived. "I married into a family of stubborn women, though. I'm not surprised they're fighting."

"I heard your wife bullied a child," Yen says idly, tugging the suitcase back and closing the zipper. She sets it gently wheels-down on the floor, mindful of the electronics.

Eist winces. "I wouldn't say 'bullied.' We like Dara. Calanthe just has… reservations… about Ciri going to that neighborhood."

Yennefer understands the implication perfectly well. She pulls up the handle and starts wheeling the suitcase back towards the staircase.

"It's easy to judge us at your age," Eist tells her. He hasn't followed her back downstairs; she doesn't give him the courtesy of looking up. "You'll understand when you have kids. I'd do anything to protect her."

Yen likes having the last word; it's an indulgent habit. She hesitates at the door, casting around for something, but there's a rift between her ribs—the broiling envy of this home, this love, and the hot grief at finding it still lacking.

"I'll tell her," she says eventually, turning the doorknob. "About the computer."

"Thank you," he says.

Yen steps back into the sticky summer night. She rubs at the back of her neck and puts the suitcase in the back before she slides back into the driver's seat.

Ciri has the windows down and her phone plugged into the aux. She looks up when Yen shuts the door firmly behind her.

"I got your laptop too," Yen tells her. "Your grandfather said he still wants to play with you, if you want."

Ciri smiles faintly, a little like relief. "I thought about moving the car down the block. Would you have thought that was funny or just gotten mad?"

Yen snorts and pulls up the map home on her phone. "Both, probably."

She switches to the AC and rolls the windows up; she's gotten into the habit of it for highway driving, after years of Geralt's nagging about rocks kicking up through the windows.

"Did he… seem mad?" Ciri ventures. She had her seatbelt undone and was slumped all the way down with her knees knocking the dashboard, but she sits up a little to buckle in as Yen pulls out of the driveway.

Yen eyes the mailbox in her rearview mirror. She considers hitting it on purpose, but it looks sturdy enough to scratch her paint.

"No, he didn't," she says. "He said you take after your mother."

Ciri turns to look out the window. "He might be a little mad."

"Do they not get along?" Yen asks curiously. Geralt always spoke most admirably of Calanthe when it was in relation to how fiercely she loved her daughter. "Is that why your parents moved away?"

Ciri shrugs. "They were home most of the summer doing grassroots stuff. They lobby in DC."

"Not your grandparent's politics?" Yennefer guesses drily.

"Not really," Ciri says.

Yen comes to a rolling stop at a stop sign, then glances over as she breezes through the deserted intersection. "And what do you think?"

Ciri's cheek is smushed against the glass. She mutters, "I miss being too young to have an opinion."

The opulent neighborhood fades into the distance behind them, replaced by a bright stretch of highway.

"I'll let you take your cop-out," Yen tells her, "as long as you admit that it is one."

"Fine." Ciri sighs dramatically, in that way that only teenagers and Julian are capable of. "Thanks for getting my stuff."

"You're welcome," Yen says.

Ciri sighs again, quieter this time. She's still holding the wine glass between two sweatshirt-obscured palms. 

It's a beautiful night to be brooding out of a car window, Yennefer thinks, but it'd be better in the rain. She taps her fingers on the steering wheel as they speed down the highway; she drives faster undistracted by conversation. 

The music playing from Ciri's phone is eclectic, in good taste. Yennefer listens to an extra one and a half songs trawling for a parking spot near the apartment and finally finds one a few blocks away. 

They park and make their way inside; Yen scans the key fob to get into the building and hitches the apartment door up while she turns the lock, bracing with her shoulder. It swings open and she gestures Ciri inside.

No one's home yet, which is to be expected; it's not even eleven and Julian almost always stays until the others kick him out to close.

Yennefer doesn't understand it. She can barely function past one AM on a weekend these days, let alone nearly three in the morning on a Wednesday. It doesn't make her jealous, exactly, but it does make her feel old.

"When's your bedtime?" she asks Ciri, switching on the lights.

"Um, I don't really have one over the summer," Ciri answers. She's unlacing her boots and placing them neatly next to a pair of Ren's. "But if you wanna go to bed, I can find something to do."

Yen unzips her boots and leaves them in the corner. She puts the wine glass on the coffee table and turns on more lights on her way to Geralt's room.

"I'll be up for a bit," she says, speaking loudly in case Ciri hasn't followed her in. "Let's get you set—ah, fuck, I didn't get your toothbrush."

"Um, that's okay," Ciri says from directly behind her. "Is there a CVS nearby?"

Yen groans, temporarily giving up on getting out the air mattress to sit on the floor. "There is, but hopefully there's a spare under the sink."

Ciri fiddles with the hem of her shirt and offers, "I can run down to the store if you want. I have money."

"Don't worry about it." Yen waves her off and shifts around to peer under the bed—she spots the folded up air mattress and air pump, both of which she hauls out. "I think I'm good for a couple of toiletries."

"I just feel bad," Ciri says. She reaches for the air pump; Yennefer lets her carry it.

"Grow out of it," Yen advises, leading the way back into the living room. 

Ciri purses her lips at that, watching Yen unfold the vinyl and unscrew the valve. She plugs the air pump in for her and holds it out once Yennefer's arranged the mattress into position between the couch and coffee table. 

"Thanks," Yennefer says. "Go into Geralt's closet and find a set of sheets, will you? Don't touch any of the drawers."

Whatever Ciri's answer is supposed to be is drowned out by Yennefer switching on the pump; it whirrs loudly and slowly starts inflating the mattress. Ciri wanders off around the corner though, so Yennefer assumes she's doing like she was asked.

Yen leaves the mattress inflating and grabs a spare blanket from Renfri's room—the maroon one, which is the softest, and a pillow off the bed. There's an open tube of lube on the nightstand, which she quickly shoves into a drawer on her way out.

Ciri is sitting on the couch, texting on her phone.

"Well," Yen says over the roar of the air pump, "that's everything, isn't it?"

"The toothbrush," Ciri says patiently.

Yen throws the pillow at the air mattress.

She finds an opened three-pack of toothbrushes under the sink, though, probably thanks to Julian. God. It's such a pathetic thing to fuck up. She brushes her own teeth. Why does she keep forgetting the kid needs to brush her teeth?

It's fine. They're doing fine. The goddamn air pump is so fucking loud. Yen pulls out her phone, which is unfortunately filled with texts from Julian.

**_[eyeroll emoji] (10:37 PM):_ ** _ Yennefer………...it has occurred to me……….and I really hate to tell you this…….that there are……..a lot of sex toys in the apartment _

**_[eyeroll emoji] (10:37 PM):_ ** _ Like. A lot of them _

**_[eyeroll emoji] (10:38 PM):_ ** _ And condoms _

**_[eyeroll emoji] (10:38 PM):_ ** _ Do with this information what you will……...and by that I mean please hide any and all evidence that Geralt and I have sex love you bye [kissy face emoji] _

Yen pinches the bridge of her nose.

**_Yennefer (11:14 PM):_ ** _ I hate you.  _

**_Yennefer (11:14 PM):_ ** _ Everything was put away when we got here. _

She hears the air pump shut off, which means it's probably time to stop hiding in the bathroom like a coward.

**_[eyeroll emoji] (11:16 PM):_ ** _ Ah. Please disregard my previous messages. I am a virgin _

Yen tugs out a new toothbrush, which she adds to the four already in the cup on the sink.

**_Yennefer (11:17 PM):_ ** _ So am I. _

Ciri is carefully tucking the sheet around the air mattress when Yen walks back into the living room; she looks up and smiles tentatively.

"Found a toothbrush," Yen tells her. "Yours is the orange one."

"Thanks," Ciri answers. "Um, I think we're set up, then. Thanks again."

"You're welcome." Yen stares at her, feeling an uncomfortable itch under her skin. Maybe they should just go to bed? No, it's too early to go to bed. They've been quiet too long now. "Well… do you want to talk about it?"

Ciri blinks. "About… what?"

"... Things," Yennefer says, her lip curling ineffectually. "With your family?"

Ciri's eyes are a little wide; she turns them downwards, double checking the snug tuck of the spare sheet under the mattress. "Um, not right now?"

"Right," says Yen. "That's fine."

Another silence. Ciri fluffs the pillow up and centers it at the head of the bed.

Yen curls her socked toes against the carpet and offers, "We have Netflix?"

"Oh, thank God," Ciri says, looking up. "Do you like The Great British Bake-Off?"

"I've never seen it," Yennefer admits, reaching for the remote. "But a lot of my students like it."

Ciri smiles, fidgeting with her sweatshirt hem. "Oh, are you a teacher?"

"Teaching Assistant, while I'm in grad school." Yen switches on the TV and clicks over to Netflix, then pauses. "Have you had dinner?"

"Yeah," Ciri says.

Yen raises an eyebrow in offering. "Popcorn?"

"Sure,” Ciri answers. “Thanks.”

Yennefer hands over the remote and says, "Finish setting it up."

Ciri sits down on the couch and starts searching through Geralt's Netflix. Yen rummages in the pantry and sets the popcorn up in the microwave.

"Um, do you care if we start where I left off?" Ciri asks, looking over. 

Yen leans back against the kitchen counter. "It's a competition, right? There's no plot?"

"Yeah. I do get kinda attached to the people, but you don't have to."

"That's fine." Yen waves a hand dismissively. "Do you want cheese on your popcorn?"

"What?" asks Ciri.

Yennefer smiles and opens the refrigerator to dig around for the container. "Grated Parmesan cheese on popcorn. Practically the only good thing I took from my family."

Ciri hits play on the TV and then immediately pauses it. "I'll try it."

Yen waits for the popcorn to finish and then dumps it into a bowl with a little extra butter and the cheese, tossing it all together. She wipes her hands off on a dish towel and then joins Ciri on the couch.

"Alright," she says, snagging the blanket off the air mattress, "Who are we rooting for?"

Ciri smiles and starts introducing the contestants.

Yen kicks her feet up on the coffee table and smiles back.

**Ciri.**

Ciri watches TV with Yennefer until Yen starts falling asleep, her head drooping back against the couch and her fingers twitching every time she jolts herself awake.

What time is it?

Ciri taps on her phone, carefully ignoring all the notifications, and sees that it's barely after midnight. 

"Um, Yen?" she whispers, nudging her host gently. 

Yennefer grumbles and sits up, then cracks her neck with an audible pop. "Hm?"

"We can go to bed now," Ciri tells her. 

Yen squints, which makes her look even sleepier. "You're sure?"

Ciri looks down at her lap. It's way earlier than she normally stays up until, but maybe Dara will be awake. She should probably tell him what she did, anyway.

Or maybe she'll just try to sleep.

"It's fine," she says.

Yennefer puts the popcorn bowl on the coffee table and says, "I'll sleep out here with you, if you want—so it's not as awkward."

"Oh." Ciri picks at a loose thread on her ripped jeans. It's not that she doesn't trust everyone—she wouldn't have tracked Geralt down otherwise, even if she  _ was  _ being stupid. But it might still be weird to be the only one out here when the others start waking up. "Um, yeah, thanks."

Yen says, "You're welcome," and starts tossing extra pillows off the couch.

Ciri bites her lip. "Um, you can have the air mattress if you want it. This couch is really stiff."

Yen raises an amused eyebrow and says, "I'm not being self-sacrificing. 'Stiff' is better for my back."

"Oh," says Ciri.

"Will the air mattress bother you?" Yennefer asks.

"No," Ciri says quickly. "I sleep on the floor at sleepovers all the time."

Another eyebrow raise—but this one is more skeptical. "I thought you didn't have friends."

Ciri flips her phone facedown on her thigh. "I get invited to things. I don't think they really like me, though. They just like that Grandma owns a club."

"Hm," Yen answers. "I'm gonna go take my makeup off."

Ciri crawls off the couch, taking the blanket with her, and lays down on the air mattress. The apartment is dimly lit around her, which is comforting. It  _ is  _ a little like a sleepover, maybe, except Yen is older and cooler than Ciri's classmates.

And nicer, in her own way.

And probably doesn't wanna play Truth or Dare, which is totally okay with Ciri. 

The faint sounds of running water soothes Ciri from the bathroom. She should probably put her pajamas on and go brush her teeth and everything, but suddenly she feels like everything she's been keeping in will slosh out of her if she moves an inch. 

This is really, really stupid.  _ Ciri  _ is being really, really stupid. What was she thinking, coming here? What are Geralt and Yennefer thinking, letting her stay? She's just some shitty privileged kid who couldn't handle—

"Bathroom's free," Yen says, "if you want it."

Ciri's chin quivers. She shakes her head.

"Fuck," says Yennefer. "What's happening?"

Ciri pulls the blanket up over her face and says, "I'm sorry."

The couch creaks when Yennefer sits down on it; none of Grandma and Grandpa's furniture creaks.

Hesitantly, Yennefer tells her, "Look, I… I'm sorry for being harsh before. I can understand if you don't want to talk to me about it. But I don't want to be an asshole, especially not to you, so I'll try to… not be one."

Ciri peers out from over the edge of the blanket, blinking the tears from her eyes. Yen looks different without her makeup—not younger, exactly, but maybe like less of a grown-up. 

Ciri asks, "Why are you helping me?"

Yen lays down on her back, crossing her ankles near one armrest and folding her hands over her stomach.

"I think this is the part, traditionally," she says, "where I'm supposed to say something trite and Disney Channel-approved."

"Grandma doesn't like the Disney Channel," says Ciri.

Yen turns her head, catching Ciri's eye by surprise, and says, "I think I want to be a mom one day, and I'm fucking terrified I'll be shit at it."

Ciri hears her phone buzz where she left it on the coffee table. It sounds like someone's calling her. Again.

"Is this the part where I tell you that you'll be a good one?" she asks.

The phone keeps ringing.

"No," says Yennefer. 

It goes to voicemail. 

Ciri closes her eyes and says, "Goodnight."

**Yennefer.**

Yennefer wakes up twice during the night.

The first time is to Julian butchering an attempt at opening the front door. You'd think after staying here for most of a summer he'd get the hang of it, but the obnoxious little shit has an unparalleled talent for being disruptive whenever possible—so of course he can't slip in quietly.

On top of the repeated thumping against the door when he tries to open it, he's also singing under his breath. Something from the 80's that Yennefer could place if she were more lucid; probably whatever he sang last at karaoke.

She hates that she knows that.

Ciri grumbles and shifts around on the air mattress. 

Yennefer just sighs loudly when Julian finally gets through the door and locks it behind himself.

Julian leans over the back of the couch to flip her off on his way to the kitchen. 

He turns off the light she forgot about, though.

~*~

Yen falls back asleep after Julian vanishes into Geralt's room, then wakes up again when Geralt and Renfri get home.

Or, shortly after.

When Yen opens her eyes, someone is tucking her in up to her chin, knuckles brushing tenderly against her jaw. She flutters her eyes open with a drowsy smile.

It's hard to see in the dark, before her eyes adjust. She knows Renfri's hand, though, when it cups the side of her face.

"Thanks, princess," Yen rasps, her voice strange and thick with sleep.

Renfri kisses her gently, once, and then walks away.

**Ciri.**

In the morning, Ciri wakes up to someone rustling around in the kitchen. She cracks one eye open and sees that Yennefer's still asleep on the couch.

No one's turned on any lights, but there are windows letting in some sunlight. Whoever's behind her in the kitchen seems like they're trying to be quiet so they don't wake her up.

She closes her eyes again and lays still.

A short time later, Yen yawns and sits up on the couch. Ciri waits a few moments before she stretches and rubs at her eyes; the air mattress has partially deflated during the night, so when she sits up all the air goes to one side and basically puts her on the floor.

"Goooood _ morning, _ Sleeping Beauty!" Jaskier says cheerfully. "And Yennefer."

"Ugh," says Yen.

Ciri giggles. She turns around to follow the sound of Jaskier's voice; he's sitting on the kitchen table, legs swinging, while Geralt cooks something on the stove.

"Good morning," she tells the both of them.

"Are you hungry?" Jaskier asks. "We're making pancakes, or there's dinosaur oatmeal or PopTarts or toast or ice cream or—"

Yen says, "Jesus Christ."

"—not him. Oh, there's eggs! And coffee. Do you drink coffee?"

Ciri smiles tentatively. "Pancakes sound good."

"Great!" Jaskier answers. "Do you want chocolate chips?"

Geralt, in the middle of flipping a pancake with a flick of his wrist, grunts.

"We do not have chocolate chips," Jaskier amends.

Yennefer gets off the couch and walks into another room—Renfri's bedroom, probably, since Ciri catches a quick glimpse of a human-shaped lump inside.

The door closes with a passive-aggressive amount of force.

Ciri frowns. Do Yennefer and Jaskier not get along? 

Jaskier is pretty… loud. But he's also been really nice, and he kept Ciri from freaking out last night while Geralt and Yen were arguing about what to do with her.

If Jaskier and Yennefer are both dating Geralt, shouldn't they be friends?

Ciri grabs her phone, which is at twenty percent, and comes to sit at the table. "Can I help at all?"

"Absolutely not," Jaskier says primly. "You're our honored guest!"

Geralt snorts.

Jaskier says, "Semantics," with a wave of his hand, which makes no sense.

He hops off the table and reaches into one of the cabinets, where he pulls down a box of PopTarts. While he's over there, he grabs Geralt's butt—which Geralt doesn't even react to—and then kisses him on the cheek.

Geralt hums warmly and then nudges Jaskier out of the way so he can slide a pancake onto a plate.

They're really affectionate. Or, Jaskier is really affectionate and Geralt doesn't seem to mind. There was a lot of PDA at Ciri's middle school, but really only from the straight couples.

She doesn't wanna be rude by staring. 

"Um, is it okay to plug my phone in?" she asks.

"Of course," Jaskier tells her. "There's an outlet on the wall behind you. Do you need a charger?"

Ciri stands up again and says, "I think I've got one in my suitcase, but thanks."

Jaskier shrugs and rips open a pack of PopTarts. "How many pancakes do you want?"

"Um," Ciri asks, unzipping her suitcase, "maybe two?"

"Great, you can have these!" Jaskier says. "Syrup? Butter? I think we've got some fruit."

Yen did remember the phone charger. Ciri smiles and brings it back to the table.

"Um, maybe—can I have one of those bananas?" she asks, pointing at the bunch on the counter. "And syrup, please."

"At your service," Jaskier says with a flourish. He brings everything over to the table for her while she plugs in her phone.

Ciri means to say, "Thanks," but then she's reminded of all the missed calls from Grandma when her phone screen lights up and her throat goes tight.

"Oh," says Jaskier, apparently close enough to see the screen. "Erm."

Ciri purses her lips. Pancake batter sizzles in Geralt's pan.

"Well, they know that you're safe," Jaskier says gently. "That's really all you owe them."

Is it?

Ciri nods. She unlocks her phone anyway, scrolling anxiously through all the notifications. Three texts from Grandpa, enough from Grandma to fill up the whole screen if Ciri expands them, and two messages in the group chat with her parents.

She starts there.

Jaskier moves back over with Geralt.

**_Dad (9:05 PM):_ ** _ Hey, kiddo. You know Mom and I love you more than anything. We're proud of you for going to someone you trust and I'm sorry you're fighting with grandma. Next time please ask us before you go somewhere by yourself like that. _

**_Mom (9:32 PM):_ ** _ We love you baby girl. Call us if you need anything. _

Ciri scrubs at her face.

**_Ciri (10:14 AM):_ ** _ I love you too. _

She switches her phone to silent and puts it facedown on the table. 

The pancakes smell really good. Ciri peels her banana, uses the fork Jaskier gave her to cut it into slices over the plate, and then smothers everything in syrup. 

At some point, Jaskier started talking. Ciri realizes that with a pang of guilt, but then again, it seems like he's talking to Geralt. Or just out loud to himself, because he's just making a plan for the day—filming a video for his YouTube channel and then going to a coffee shop to write.

Ciri starts humming politely just in case.

It's nice, though, to get to feel connected to someone without having to contribute a lot to the conversation. She's not sure there's anything she trusts herself to say out loud right now. 

Maybe Geralt likes that about Jaskier too. Ciri always remembered him being quiet, but she had thought maybe that was just because family-plus-work barbeques were weird and awkward. 

Which they are. But maybe Geralt's quiet most of the time. He hasn't said a word all morning even though Jaskier has said plenty.

Shortly after Ciri starts eating, Yen and Renfri come out of the bedroom and join them at the table. Geralt makes them pancakes too, and then sits down with a plate himself.

Ciri's finished eating by then, but she doesn't wanna be rude by getting up. 

The conversation flows around her well enough; sometimes people ask her questions, like what highschool she's going to in the fall or if she can settle an argument about the best way to eat pancakes. She mostly keeps quiet, though, and no one seems bothered by that.

Then Geralt pushes his plate away, looks right at Ciri, and asks, "Barn?"

Ciri furrows her eyebrows, confused—but, right, Geralt rides horses. Jaskier was talking about going to the barn with him before they started dating.

So… Geralt is inviting her to come with him?

"Um," she says, "are you sure it's okay?"

Geralt smiles at her—a small, but warm one—and nods. He picks up everyone's empty plates and brings them over into the sink, then walks away towards his bedroom without waiting for an answer.

"If you wanna go, make sure you wear clothes you don't mind getting dirty!" Jaskier says helpfully. "Oh, and closed-toe shoes. Preferably sturdy ones. Actually, let me—" he ducks under the table, then pops his head back up. "Yeah, your feet are  _ tiny,  _ nevermind."

Ciri's pretty sure she forgot to ask Yen to get her any of her other shoes. Luckily, she was wearing her Doc's last night, so that should be fine.

"You can change in my room," Renfri offers. "Or the bathroom."

Yen adds, "But you can also stay here if you want."

"Um, I'll go," Ciri says. 

It sounds like a good distraction. And she's a little curious to see what Geralt is like alone.

Ciri gets up from the table, leaving her phone to charge, and starts looking through her suitcase. She has to move her laptop and stuff out of the way, which makes her stomach pang guiltily. Thursday is always raid night with Grandpa.

Wow, Yen really put a lot of clothes in here. Ciri finds a pair of cutoff jeans and an older tee shirt. Her favorite sweatshirt is in here too, even though she's pretty sure it was dirty. 

Maybe Grandpa told Yen to bring it.

Ciri stuffs the sweatshirt at the bottom of the suitcase and zips it up again. 

She goes to use the bathroom and get changed, and brushes her teeth while she's in there. Her makeup is smudged all around her eyes in a way that makes her look like a raccoon; she’s always secretly thought that looked cool, but she doesn’t think most other people see it that way. 

Back in the kitchen, she can hear the three adults arguing over who does the dishes.

This place really isn't soundproofed well, is it?

Ciri sees a bottle of fancy makeup remover on the counter--it’s probably Yen or Renfri’s. They probably won’t mind if she borrows it, right? She decides to go for it.

By the time Ciri is ready, Geralt's already waiting by the door. He smiles at her again and grabs his keys off a little table near the entryway as he leads her outside.

Ciri follows, turning to wave at the others when she closes the door behind her. They all wave back—until Jaskier shouts, "Nose goes!" and Renfri calls him a  _ motherfucker. _

Geralt huffs out a laugh and locks them in. 

He leads Ciri outside and into a parking garage adjacent to the apartment building, where the same rusty red truck he used to drive when she was a kid is parked. 

"You still have Blue?" Ciri asks excitedly, running up to the truck bed and hopping up on the edge. 

"Yeah," says Geralt. "Still a piece of shit. But she runs."

They had a fourth of July barbeque every year. Geralt used to lift Ciri up and let her sit on top of Blue to watch the fireworks bursting over their heads.

Ciri picks at a chipping flake of paint on the side and hops down when Geralt unlocks the cab.

They pull out onto the street. When Geralt turns it on, the stereo is playing a local college radio station. He clicks over to a different preset and old-school country starts playing instead.

Geralt doesn't say anything until they hit the highway, and then he tells her, "I won't ask you about it. But I'll listen, if you want."

Ciri pulls her feet up onto the seat and hugs her knees to her chest. "Um, not right now—but thanks."

Geralt just hums and turns the radio up.

They don't talk the rest of the drive, which is fine. Ciri plays on her phone and thinks about texting Dara. She's not sure where to even start. The last thing she told him was that she and Grandma fought. 

**_Ciri (unsent):_ ** _ Hi I'm okay but _

**_Ciri (unsent):_ ** _ Hey what's up? [Crazy tongue emoji] _

**_Ciri (unsent):_ ** _ Hey so funny story lol _

Ciri gives up. She sleeps her phone and stares out the window, where the highway view has been replaced by winding country roads and an intimidating treeline. 

It feels like they're crawling around the bends. They'd probably be there by now if Yennefer was driving.

Ciri slinks down in her seat and asks, "Do you always drive this slow, or is it because I'm here?"

"I drive the speed limit," says Geralt.

Ciri rolls her eyes. 

It could be worse; the scenery is pretty. At one point they go right past a deer, Geralt slowing to a crawl under it's far in the rearview. 

"Sometimes there's more than one," he says. "Getting there five minutes faster isn't worth hitting one."

Ciri props her chin up on her knees, pouting out the window guiltily.

Soon enough, Geralt pulls into a long, dirt driveway that takes them to a surprisingly impressive compound. There's an outdoor ring and a large covered building, along with a barn and plenty of pastures. A group of horses are grazing in the one closest to the road, their tails swishing to bat away flies.

Geralt parks between two other trucks and asks, "How comfortable are you around horses?"

"I did a camp one summer," Ciri says. "We basically just walked and trotted."

"Hm." Geralt cuts the engine and opens the rear door, where he starts rustling around. "Do you know how to not get trampled?"

Ciri blinks. "Um… yes?"

"Then you can come with me to get Roach."

"Is that your horse?" Ciri asks.

Geralt finishes in the back and locks the truck. He's wearing paddock boots and carrying a halter on one shoulder—it's teal, with a lime green leadrope attached, which is so at odds with Geralt's entire aesthetic that Ciri has to put a hand to her mouth to hold back a giggle.

He doesn't seem to notice. 

Ciri follows him into the field.

~*~

Roach is a pretty chestnut mare who seems, like all of Geralt's human friends, to make up for his quietness with three times the excitement. She trots up to him when he whistles for her across the field like something out of a movie, and then refuses to stand still while he grooms her in a paddock.

When Ciri went to horse camp, all the ponies were too lazy to do anything besides look unimpressed—except for the mean ones, who pinned their ears and knew how to stomp on feet. Roach is fidgety, always pestering Geralt by trying to shove her nose in his pockets or chewing on his hair, but she's not trying to hurt him.

It's a little like Jaskier in the kitchen.

That  _ does  _ make Ciri giggle, and Geralt catches her.

"What?" he asks wryly, raising an eyebrow.

"Nothing." Ciri bites lightly on a knuckle, trying to hide her smile. "Roach reminds of someone."

Geralt's lips twitch. "Does she?"

Ciri hops up onto the paddock fence, feeling the wood scrape against her thighs. "Where did you get her?"

Geralt's smile stretches; he goes back to grooming Roach. "She's off-the-track, but I bought her off someone who'd been trying to retrain her. Did a shit job."

"What made it a sh—bad job?" Ciri asks.

Geralt pats Roach on the neck. His hair is pulled away from his face; Ciri can see something wistful flash there, before his pleasant neutrality resettles.

"He tried to rush her," says Geralt.

Ciri feels the weight of her phone in her pocket, the tender bags under her eyes. She wants to say something.

She always wants to say something.

Before she can manage it, a horse tears through the center of the compound at a breakneck gallop and in full tack. Roach startles, tossing her head in the air and neighing loudly—but Geralt pushes her towards the back of the paddock before she can get any closer to Ciri.

"Shit," Geralt mutters, a hand sliding up Roach's muzzle. A woman dressed in riding clothes jogs clumsily into view, chasing the horse. "Gonna see if she needs help. Stay here."

"Um, okay."

Geralt opens the paddock gate and latches it behind him. He hesitates, looking back at Ciri, and tells her, "Roach is a good listener. Always knows what to say to me."

Ciri smiles tentatively, but Geralt's already running to catch up to the woman.

Roach snorts and walks over to Geralt's bag, which is right on the opposite side of the fence, and starts nosing around in it.

"Oh, no!" Ciri scolds. "No, naughty girl!"

Roach ignores her.

Ciri sighs and hops down into the paddock. She touches carefully at Roach's flank to tell her she's there, then snatches the bag away and puts it out of reach. 

Roach headbutts Ciri on the chest in retribution.

"You know better," Ciri tells her. "Geralt's gonna give you treats  _ after  _ your ride, I'm positive."

Roach bites Ciri's tee-shirt and tries to chew on it.

"Yikes." Ciri takes two big steps back, frowning down at her shirt. A little horse drool, but nothing's torn. "He didn't teach you manners, though, did he?"

All Roach does is try to fit her head through the fence to reach Geralt's bag. 

"... Do you ever run away?" Ciri asks. "I don't know why you would. Geralt seems like a great horse dad. But… I guess a lot of people would say my grandparents are pretty cool."

Roach's tail swishes pointedly.

Ciri sits down in the dirt—which probably isn't super safe, but feels better than climbing back onto the fence. She's not in kicking range, anyway.

"This is really stupid, right? I mean, what kind of idiot talks to a horse?" Ciri draws a little frownie face in the dirt. "I just… don't know what else to do, Roach. I want someone to listen to me, but… what if I say the wrong thing, or—or Grandma  _ really  _ won't love me anymore and I—"

Ciri sniffles. She scrubs at her face, which probably smears dirt on it. 

Roach backs up, pulling her head back through the fence, and then turns to walk towards Ciri.

Ciri stands up slowly and goes to lean against the fence, just in case, but Roach is just bored and nosy again. She flaps her gumbs at Ciri and nudges at her pockets.

"Where would I go?" Ciri whispers. "Do you think my parents would still want me? Would they let me come to DC?"

Roach's nostrils flare as she breathes hot, damp air against Ciri's ribs through her shirt. 

Tentatively, Ciri reaches up and brushes her fingers across the soft skin of Roach's nose, prickling against the whiskers on the side. 

Tears well up in her eyes again; she's too tired for them.

Ciri pulls out her phone and takes a picture of Roach's big, strange eyes. She texts it to Dara.

**_Ciri (11:42 AM):_ ** _ Guess what I did _

She only has to wait a few minutes before Dara answers.

**_Dara (11:45 AM):_ ** _ I know you're not about to tell me your grandparents bought you a horse _

Ciri winces; part of her hates that it's not a totally ridiculous guess.

**_Ciri (11:45 AM):_ ** _ Ummmmm not exactly… _

And Ciri tells him everything—catching the bus into the city and tracking down Geralt, getting taken in by his friends. Yennefer getting her clothes from Grandpa so she wouldn't have to do it herself.

Her jaw is clenched tightly, trying to keep her emotions under control. She doesn't wanna cry in public.

**_Dara (11:59 AM):_ ** _ If you need somewhere to go my parents say you can always come here _

**_Dara (11:59 AM):_ ** _ I love you dude <33 _

Wet, fat tears spill over onto Ciri's cheeks. She scrubs them away furiously with the hem of her shirt, muffling quiet sniffles into the worn fabric.

The same horse comes galloping back through the compound, still without its rider. Geralt walks patiently after it, his silver hair glinting in the midday sun.

**_Ciri (12:02 PM):_ ** _ I love you too _

~*~

She texts with Dara a little while longer, making sure to ask him how his day is going; he complains about his summer reading list, which Ciri hasn't even started. Surprising no one, the books aren't exactly diverse. 

Ciri wipes a stray tear off her face and stills the quiver in her bottom lip.

**_Ciri (12:07 PM):_ ** _ Maybe when we get there we can start our own reading club [grinning emoji]  _

**_Ciri (12:07 PM):_ ** _ And if not it'll just be you and me _

It wouldn't be so bad if it ended up that way again—but she hopes it doesn't. It'd be nice to have more than one friend.

Is Yen her friend now? 

No, Yennefer and the others feel… different. Ciri's not sure what she wants from them, or what they want from her. Geralt just wants her to go home, probably, but he was nice enough to bring her here. 

Speaking of Geralt—Ciri looks over just in time to watch him handing the captured horse back to its owner. He's far enough away that Ciri can't read his face, but she can tell he's (literally) edging his way out of a conversation that the woman is trying to trap him in.

Ciri thinks about going over to help him, but she's not sure if he'd wanna explain who she is.

She re-ties her hair in a fresh ponytail, double-checks her face in her phone's camera, and goes back to petting Roach instead.

"Sorry," Geralt tells her when he rejoins her. "Was Roach good?"

"She tried to get into your bag, but I moved it," Ciri answers.

Geralt nods. "Thanks."

If he notices that she's been crying, he doesn't say anything—just goes back to grooming Roach and then tacks her up for a ride.

He straps his helmet on and starts leading Roach towards the outdoor arena, which seems ridiculous to Ciri.

"Um," she asks, even though she's following them, "why aren't you riding inside?"

Geralt tilts his head towards the indoor arena. "Roach spooks in there. We're used to the heat. You can wait in the office if you wanna."

Ciri shakes her head and says, "I'm fine."

Geralt shrugs and opens the gate leading to the ring. He mounts Roach and starts walking her around, the reins in one hand even though he's riding English. 

Ciri wanders over to a part of the fence that's shaded by the office building and climbs up there to sit and watch.

~*~

Roach spooks outside, too. She doesn't like where Ciri's sitting and she's afraid of a mounting block towards the middle of the arena, and she hates the entire length of fence that borders the parking lot.

Ciri can't even imagine what trying to ride inside would be like.

Geralt handles it with the same patience he gives everything else—even though Ciri can see a muscle jumping in his jaw whenever he rides past with Roach side-stepping to avoid the shadows. He murmurs to Roach under his breath, though Ciri doesn't catch the words, and circles her until she can walk past Ciri without startling.

It doesn't look like a lot of fun. When Ciri did her horse camp, all they did was walk and trot and play silly games. She didn't think people who rode for real did that all the time, obviously, but she also didn't think they spent twenty minutes walking in smaller and smaller circles around a mounting block.

The whole process repeats when Geralt picks up the trot. Ciri squints, using a hand to block the shifting sun from getting in her eyes. Is this what Jaskier does all the time?

She pulls her phone back out.

**_Dara (12:10 PM):_ ** _ Let's do it!! Hopefully we find a teacher that doesn't suck lol _

**_Ciri (12:37 PM):_ ** _ Sorry I wks _

Ciri's attention is abruptly yanked upwards again, because Roach is definitely  _ not  _ trotting anymore—and judging by Geralt's face and posture, the wild canter wasn't his idea.

Ciri watches with a hand to her mouth as Geralt tries to get Roach back under control. At one point he tries to veer her away from Ciri—who quickly hops down off the fence and out of the arena—and Roach bucks him into the air. 

Somehow, he keeps his balance. After a few tense minutes with Ciri's heart in her throat, Roach seems to calm down again. She snorts, pawing at the ground when Geralt coaxes her to a gentle walk. 

Geralt reaches down and pats Roach on the neck. Then, he looks over at Ciri and calls, "You okay?"

Ciri blinks. "Are  _ you?" _

Geralt shrugs and nudges Roach back into a trot.

**_Dara (12:37 PM):_ ** _??? _

**_Ciri (12:40 PM):_ ** _ Double sorry my godfather's horse is crazy we're still at the barn _

**_Dara (12:41 PM):_ ** _ lol _

Ciri looks back up and watches Geralt resume his slow, patient circles.

~*~

After Geralt's ride, Ciri helps him clean his tack and sprays Roach down with a hose while he holds her. The water spritzes back at her, which feels good in the afternoon heat; she splashes some on her face while Geralt is turning Roach out in the pasture.

They finish up at the barn and head back to the car, where Geralt unlocks the cab and loads all his things into the back. Ciri climbs into her seat and leans back against the headrest, baking in the heat.

A trickle of sweat rolls down the back of her neck. She feels like she could harden and crack like clay in a kiln—turn into something sturdy instead of something that can change.

Ciri reaches over and closes the door to seal herself in.

Geralt slides behind the wheel and blasts the AC as soon as the engine starts. He says, "Seatbelt," and pulls out of his parking spot before buckling his own.

Ciri's seatbelt clicks into place. She tries to press her temple to the window, but the glass burns against her hairline and she pulls away.

The asphalt is dappled by shadows cast by the trees. There's water just inside the treeline on this side of the road, Ciri realizes as they drive along—maybe a creek, or something more like a swamp. 

There's also a massive snapping turtle, slowly creeping its way across. Ciri flinches in anticipation, but Blue comes to a rolling stop a full ten feet ahead.

Geralt's eyes flick up to the rearview mirror, then over to Ciri. He throws on his hazards and puts the truck in park.

"Stay here," he tells her, then walks out onto the road.

Ciri watches him grab the turtle with both hands by the back of the shell. It flails its clawed feet and strains its long neck, trying to take a chunk out of Geralt's arm—but he holds it a careful distance away and walks it the rest of the way across.

Geralt takes a quick step back when he sets the turtle on the ground, but it seems more interested in the fact that it's on the grass again. A car speeds around the bend behind them and passes on the left, going fast enough to make Blue vibrate under Ciri's feet.

The turtle, blissfully unaware, ambles into the water.

Geralt checks for cars in both directions before he walks back to the truck and switches the hazards back off. He re-buckles his seatbelt and shifts the car into drive.

It's quiet in the truck, aside from the radio. 

"Roach had a bad day," Geralt tells the windshield. "Doesn't make her bad."

Ciri frowns and looks carefully away. "I know that."

"... Doesn't make you bad," Geralt adds.

Ciri turns to him and asks, "What makes someone bad?"

Geralt wets his bottom lip and says nothing.

Ciri pulls her knees up to her chest. She picks at the frayed edges of her cutoffs. "Do Jaskier and Yennefer not like each other?"

If the question surprises Geralt, he doesn't show it.

"I think they like each other more than they wanna admit," he says, a smile tugging at one corner of his mouth. "They definitely annoy the shit outta each other, though."

Ciri purses her lips together. "Isn't that, um… a problem, though? Since you're all…?"

Geralt hums. "It could've been. But we make it work. They're… they care, a lot, about me—took me a while to realize it."

Ciri stays quiet, smiling softly.

"Yen can be prickly," says Geralt. "I think she had to be. But she reminds me it's okay to want things. Jask does, too."

"And Renfri?" Ciri asks. 

Geralt glances to the left, then checks his rearview again. "I used to say I didn't need anyone. I didn't think about how that made the people who care about me feel. But I think that's how I had to be, too."

Ciri presses her fingertips into her shins. "Um, I don't get it."

"I loved her," Geralt says, "before I could say it."

They pull onto the first major road, which will lead them back to the highway. Ciri watches cars zip past and feels paralyzed, suddenly, by the crippling awareness that they all contain people who love and laugh and cry and who she'll never know.

Who will never know her.

"Why're you telling me all this?" she mutters.

"Because I thought it was fucking horseshit when people said it'd get better," Geralt tells her. "And then it did."

Oh.

Ciri's chest feels tight; she presses her fingers to the necklace at her throat—a gift from her parents last year. Does he—he can't know, can he? 

No one knows, not even Dara.

She just wants  _ answers.  _ She wants to know why she can't play Truth or Dare without being afraid of what someone will make her do—without being afraid they'll realize she likes it. She wants to know how to be patient until 'it gets better' and what to do if 'better' never comes and how to stop  _ fucking  _ crying.

Geralt pops open the center console and hands her a pack of tissues.

"You're all—" Ciri blows her nose. "Um, I mean… you're bi, right?"

Geralt hums; he won't look her in the eye. "Yen is bi. Jask is pan, which—he can explain the difference better himself. Renfri's queer and probably won't explain it more than that."

Ciri dabs at her eyes with a nod.

"I never thought about it much." Geralt checks the rearview mirror again. "I knew I didn't… understand attraction the same way most people did. Liking someone was rare and doing something about it was rarer—at that point gender didn't seem like the important part."

Ciri looks over at him curiously; she thinks he can feel her watching, but his eyes are on the road.

"Do you know what being demisexual means?" Geralt asks.

"Um," Ciri says, "I think so."

Geralt goes quiet while he merges onto the highway, Blue's engine straining to get them up to speed. Then he says, "Maybe that's what I am. I'm still figuring it out."

Ciri's eyes widen as she blurts, "But you're old!"

Geralt snorts, shooting her an epic side-eye before refocusing on the road. His lips twitch when he says, "I'm twenty-six. And you're never too old."

"Sorry," Ciri mutters. She looks out the window. "I guess I just thought… when you, um, grow up, it all… starts to make sense?"

"Sorry," says Geralt. "Not grown up enough."

Ciri tugs hard on a loose thread on her shorts until it snaps off. She wraps it around her finger, tighter and tighter until she can see the contrast between the pale, bloodless skin and the angry red where all the pressure's going.

She wants to say it—say anything. She feels like Roach bolting from shadows.

Geralt didn't even want her to come here. But he's been so kind, now that she's staying. Like he was kind to the deer and the turtle and his horse, and his—are they a family? 

They act like the kind of family Ciri wants. The kind she dreams about when Dara goes to bed and there's no one else answering the phone.

It's probably been a weird amount of time since anyone's said anything, but Geralt doesn't look like he cares. He won't rush her.

"I've been thinking that maybe, um," Ciri says quietly, pushing past the wetness in her throat. "That I could like girls? Um, I mean,  _ just  _ girls. Like I could be a—a lesbian. But I don't know, um, how you… know."

"Hm." Geralt smiles ruefully. "I'm not the right one to give advice on knowing who you're attracted to. But it's okay to not know."

Ciri blinks, waiting for there to be… more. But there's not. He just keeps driving, the same gentle passivity on his face.

It's almost anticlimactic. 

But that's just Geralt, isn't it? She's not sure why she expected him to make it a big deal. And maybe for him it's just normal, that she could be a lesbian or gay or anything else.

_ Normal.  _ Is that what she wants to be? 

Not exactly. She wants to be brave. She wants to be the kind of person who makes the world better.

But it's like Yennefer told her—maybe that doesn't have to be her job just yet. Maybe she can just let Geralt be nice to her.

Ciri sniffles, feeling some of the tightness in her chest loosen this time as fresh tears fall.

"Did I say something wrong?" Geralt asks. 

"No, not really, I just—" Ciri sniffles again. The glass is finally cool enough to lean against the window. "You've been really nice and I know you didn't even want me to come here, so… thanks, I guess."

Geralt grimaces out of the corner of her eye. "I was an idiot. I'm glad Yen set me straight."

Ciri asks, "You are?"

"I was scared of taking responsibility," Geralt says gruffly. "... Still am. But I made a promise to your parents."

"Are you scared 'cause Yen wants kids?" Ciri guesses. People are always fighting about that in books. "Does that mean you don't want them?"

"I don't know." Geralt purses his lips. "Not for a while. It's easy to be a bad parent."

Ciri nods. She fiddles with the hem of her shorts and thinks for a long moment. "Do you think I could come out to my parents?"

Geralt's answer is equally delayed. "Hm. You never know how someone's gonna react, I guess. But I told them about me and they still let you come here."

"Did you tell my grandma?" Ciri asks.

"No," says Geralt.

The flicker of hope in Ciri's stomach dies out. That's the answer she expected, but it still stings.

"I think your grandmother—both your grandparents—want to protect you," Geralt says carefully. "When I talked to her last night, that's all she kept saying."

Ciri tucks her head between her legs. "I don't want her to protect me. I want her to understand me—and care about other people."

"I know," says Geralt. "I think your mom knows that too."

"But she's not here!" Ciri protests wetly. She squeezes her knees against her temples. "She and Dad are always gone."

He doesn't say anything.

Ciri peers up at him, waiting.

Geralt's jaw looks like it did when he was riding Roach. He takes his hand off the stick shift to adjust his low ponytail, then puts it back.

"Is that it?" Ciri asks. "You're not gonna say anything else?"

Geralt glances over at her. Just for a second, always keeping his eyes so carefully on the road, but his expression—

"What would help?" he asks earnestly.

Like he's just as helpless as she is. Fumbling for some answer that doesn't exist, because maybe it gets better but not today. 

Today just hurts.

Ciri curls up tighter against her knees and squeezes her eyes shut the rest of the way home.

**Yennefer.**

Yen is on the phone with the nail salon when Ciri and Geralt get back from the barn. She tells the woman on the phone, "Sorry, please hold a moment," and then looks over at Ciri and asks, "Do you like mani-pedis?"

Ciri's eyes are red and puffy. They go wide when Yen addresses her, but she answers, "Um, yeah?"

Yen's already pivoted to Geralt, who's wearing his 'someone made me express an emotion and I need to lay down' face. 

_ 'What did you do?'  _ she mouths, propping a fist on her hip.

Geralt shrugs sullenly and bypasses Julian to hide in the bedroom.

"Talk to you later?" Julian tells the closed door.

Yen rolls her eyes and looks back at Ciri, who is obsessively lining all the shoes up near the door. "Go take a shower if you want one. I'll get us something for later this afternoon."

Ciri nods mutely and scurries into the bathroom. Shit, do they have towels left in there?

Renfri's on the couch playing her Switch. Yen walks over, kicks her on the calf, and says, "Get the girl a towel."

Yennefer's sweet and ever-loving girlfriend blows a raspberry at her. She puts her game down and does like Yen asked, though.

That handled, Yen is left with Julian. She hates being left with Julian.

"Are you coming to the salon?" she asks.

"Obviously," Julian says, and wiggles his fingers at her like it's supposed to mean something. "Tell them I want the little old lady again."

Yen holds the phone further away from her face. "The little old lady is awful. She practically brutalizes feet."

"Yeah," Julian agrees dreamily.

Ugh. Yen picks the phone back up and says, "Sorry, are you still there?"

"Yes, miss," says the receptionist. "Do you still want an appointment?"

"Yeah, can you accommodate four this evening?" Yen asks. She pinches the bridge of her nose. "And is Lou available?"

The receptionist says, "Yes, that is fine. Can you come at four forty-five?"

Yen says, "Sure, thank you so much. The appointment is for Yennefer," and hangs up the phone after confirming.

Renfri comes back from getting Ciri's towel and vaults over the back of the couch. She snatches up her Switch and unpauses her game.

"Erm," says Julian. "Did Geralt seem upset to you?"

Yen lifts up Renfri's legs and sits on the couch, letting Renfri's feet settle in her lap. "What, you've never seen Geralt  _ brood?  _ Are you even dating him?"

"No, I mean—" Jaskier sighs. He plops himself down at their feet and tilts his head back against the couch. "Differently than normal."

"You saw the kid, didn't you?" Renfri asks without looking up. "They probs had some kinda heart-to-heart and he's freaking out."

Julian frowns. "He just doesn't normally, you know, slam the door in my face."

No. Nope, Yen isn't doing this. She's not coaching this obnoxious little undergraduate through a relationship—not even for Geralt.

"Told ya it'd happen eventually," Renfri says, though. "Don't stress, Baby-Face, I'm sure he'll get over it."

"I'm not worried about me." Julian sinks further down against the couch. "People slam doors in my face all the time. I just—"

"Of course they do," Yen says drily.

Julian blows her a kiss. "I just hope he and Ciri are okay. Yen, has she told you why she ran away?"

The shower is still going in the bathroom.

Yen feels oddly defensive anyway. She taps two fingers against Renfri's foot and says, "I'm getting an idea of it. Don't pester her."

_ "Me?"  _ Julian asks, an infuriatingly dramatic hand to his chest.  _ "Pester?  _ Never! I'm offended at the mere implica—"

"Oh my  _ God,  _ Julian," Yennefer snaps. "I will leave you on the side of the road, I swear to Jesus Christ."

"Ooh, new role-play idea!" Julian says brightly, pulling out his phone. "Young hitchhiker, a mysterious stranger who offers—"

Yen faux-gags enthusiastically. Though actually, with Geralt as the hitchhiker… 

Julian hits send with an unnecessary flourish. Thirty seconds later, Geralt opens the bedroom door to sternly say,  _ "No,"  _ in a tone of voice that will certainly do nothing besides encourage the brat further.

He closes the door again.

Julian is grinning from ear to ear. Yen fantasizes about smothering him with a pillow. Not even in a sexy way. Just to murder him.

"Do you make that face in the bedroom?" Julian asks brightly. Then immediately turns to Renfri and prods her cheek. "Does she make that face in the bedroom?"

Renfri doesn't even look up before saying, "Yeah."

The shower turns off before Yen can respond. The other two at least have the good sense to put a pin in it when Ciri shuffles out of the bathroom, one towel wrapped around her body and another covering her hair.

"Um, I forgot my clothes," she says awkwardly.

Yen gets off the couch and carries the suitcase over to her. "You can use Ren's room if you want."

Ciri nods, biting at her lower lip. "Um, thanks. What time's our appointment?"

"We'll leave in an hour and a half," Yen answers.

"Okay, cool." Ciri adjusts her towel. "Do you think I could, um, stay in Renfri's room for a little bit and read?"

Yen smiles encouragingly. "I'm sure that's fine. We'll just be out here hanging out if you need anything."

Ciri smiles back and says, "Thanks." 

Yen carries the suitcase into the room for her so she doesn't have to juggle with the towel, then comes back to the living room.

Julian has stolen her spot on the couch, which Renfri is aiding and abetting. They've been annoyingly close ever since the first night Renfri stayed over at Yen's place—which Yen would find insufferable if she didn't think the two events were probably connected.

Much like the meddling he did before the beach trip. 

She's not sure who he did it for. Maybe for Renfri, or to generally keep the peace so he wouldn't have to worry about his relationship with Geralt. Certainly not for  _ her. _

Yen walks back to the couch and squeezes between them, Renfri's legs draped over her thighs and feet propped up in Julian's lap. She supposes she can tolerate him for a bit.

~*~

Julian calls shotgun for the ten minute ride to pick up Triss. Ciri, to her credit, slides into the back seat without complaint and keeps reading her book, which it looks like she's most of the way through. 

Hopefully she doesn't finish it in public. Triss cried through the entire ending.

Speaking of, Triss joins Ciri in the back with a book of her own tucked under her arm. She's wearing a cute top, which Ciri immediately compliments.

"Thanks," Triss tells her. "I like your romper. It's really cool with the boots."

Shit. Yennefer didn't pack Ciri any shoes. What the hell is wrong with her?

Julian reaches over to try and fuck with the radio dial; Yen smacks his hand away as she pulls back out into traffic.

"Oh, _ harder, _ daddy," Julian teases, shooting her a shit-eating grin.

"Shut  _ up,"  _ Yen hisses, jerking her head towards the back seat. "There's a child—"

"Sorry, what'd you say?" asks Ciri innocently, tucking a bit of hair behind her ear. 

Yennefer and Julian say, "Nothing!" at the same time.

Triss's eyebrow raise is  _ incredibly  _ judgemental.

Their favorite nail salon is a locally owned place just west of campus; it's nestled between Renfri's favorite GameStop and an Indian restaurant with curry that terrorizes Geralt and Renfri and is therefore, obviously, Yennefer's favorite.

Once they check in, everyone crowds around the nail polish display to pick their colors. Yen quickly scans the shelves and picks a shade of opulent royal blue, which is the color she already knew she wanted.

She leaves with Triss—who has lime green and bright yellow—to take their seats.

"This is the  _ worst  _ part," Julian tells Ciri loudly. No fucking concept of an indoor voice, that one. "I can never choose. Ooh, you seem like you have amazing taste, why don't you pick for me?"

Ciri, speaking like a normal human, answers too quietly for Yen to hear.

_ "Obviously,"  _ says Julian. "You know what, though, I should get gel or it'll flake right off when I play the guitar. Here, my fate is in your hands, and remember that I have absolutely no self-respect and embarrassing me isn't possible."

Yen snorts, leaning her head back against the cushioned pedicure chair. That's a challenge if she's ever heard one. But as obtrusive as the volume is, she'd admit under duress that Julian does have a talent for making the girl smile.

Ciri is giggling while Julian flips through all the gel samples, holding different fake nails up to his face and doing a ridiculous bit where he acts like he's critiquing himself on the runway.

"How's she doing?" Triss asks quietly, flipping a page in her novel.

Yen purses her lips and admits, "I don't know. She seems like a tough kid, but she's sad, too."

"She's gutsy," Triss tells her. "Should've seen her demanding to see Geralt last night."

"Do you think I'm gonna fuck it up?" asks Yen.

Julian and Ciri join them before Triss can respond. Ciri climbs daintily into the chair next to Yen with a shimmering shade of mint green. 

Julian, meanwhile, is juggling six different bottles that he dumps onto the little tray next to the chair on Ciri's other side. One of them is regular nail polish with hot pink glitter; the other five are gel polish in different shades of purple.

Yen raises an eyebrow and asks, "Really?"

Julian hops up into his chair and waves at Lou. He side-eyes Yennefer in a huff and says, "It's my God-given right as a pansexual to not have to choose things."

"Stop appropriating bi culture," Yen deadpans.

_ "Honey."  _ Jaskier puts a hand to his chest with a disapproving gasp. "Let's not fight in front of the children, it's unbecoming."

Yen makes a face. "I'm not sure if I'm more horrified by the idea of being married to you or by you having children."

The nail technician doing Yen's pedicure today turns on the water. She reaches over and turns Ciri's on, too, and Ciri says, "Thank you."

"You're right," Jaskier agrees. "I'm probably destined to be a vodka aunt."

Yen blames her softened curiosity on how nice the warm water and massage jets feel. She turns to him more fully, taking note of Ciri tracking the conversation, and asks, "Do you want kids?"

Julian's mouth twitches before he spreads it into a grin. "If you wanna try for one in public, we need the consent of all these lovely people, and since Ciri's a minor—"

"Fuck off," Yen says primly.

Julian sobers, which is almost more annoying. He's perpetually irritating until he decides not to be, and she hates being reminded that he's not a cartoon character that could survive having an anvil dropped on his head.

"I guess I do, yeah," he says thoughtfully. His lips have a wistful twist to them as he taps his fingers on the arm of his chair. "But I always hated that my parents were never really around, and since I'm obviously gonna be famous—"

(Ugh.)

"—and travel a lot, probably, I'm not sure how to, like, be a good one." 

Yen frowns. Obviously in a second she'll come up with a witty retort. 

"I mean, my parents were there  _ physically,  _ so I guess it's not the best indicator. I'd probably need a co-parent, is what I'm saying. Or two." Julian smiles brightly. "Basically, if-slash-when you and Geralt have kids, I'll be like the fun uncle on steroids! If you don't murder me by then. Oh, ick, what's your face doing?"

Yen has no idea what her face is doing. She snatches up a magazine at random and flips it open, one foot twitching as the nail technician buffs her heel.

"I've been poisoning you for months," she tells a two-page spread on how to get a bikini body without going to the gym. "You haven't noticed a weird taste in your coffee?"

"I thought that was Splenda," says Julian, undeterred. "Triss, do you want kids?"

"I might foster," Triss says. "Not for a while, though."

Julian looks at Ciri. "Any thoughts?"

"If you poison someone slowly," Ciri asks, looking between them innocently, "don't they just build up an immunity?"

It startles a laugh out of Julian, who is immediately scolded by Lou to stay still. 

Yen smiles and puts down the magazine, which she has no intention of actually reading. The TV is playing music videos with the volume turned off and different music playing overhead, which is a trend Yennefer doesn't have a single opinion about but bothers Geralt to no end. 

As it is, Yen watches the surprisingly erotic video for "Sucker" by The Jonas Brothers with casual interest.

Julian, apparently following her gaze, says, "Okay, controversial opinion, but can we all acknowledge that Joe is the hottest brother? And also that baby-Julian had a giant, barely repressed crush on him, which honestly explains a lot about my personality."

Yen snorts. Joe Jonas is currently tied up and dangling from the ceiling with a system of ropes that aren't…  _ not  _ reminiscent of a kink scene.

"Very telling," she agrees drily. "Nick is cuter."

"Oh, please." Julian waves a hand at her. "You can't tell me you don't take one look at Joe and wanna—"

Triss says, "Keep it PG-13, guys."

"Obviously," Yen answers anyway, inferring the end of that particular fill-in-the-blank easily enough. "I have a sixth sense for these things. But Nick is cuter."

"You just hate that I'm right," says Julian, voice lilting. "I could say 'the sky is blue' and you'd say—"

"Not at sunset," Yennefer finishes. "I'd agree with you if everything you said wasn't inane and stupid."

Julian huffs and goes back to whatever he was doing on his phone before this conversation started.

Yen picks her phone up too, enjoying the relative quiet. She's sure that'll be the end of it, until Ciri quietly says, "Joe's wife is the hottest."

There's a split-second where Yen doesn't think she's heard correctly. It's not in the same tone that she and Julian were using—or, it's supposed to be, but there's something tentative around the edges that didn't get properly masked.

Which adds context.

Yen smiles warmly and says,  _ "Finally  _ someone with taste."

"Well, hold on a minute!" Julian protests. "I didn't know we were counting spouses, because then obviously Priyanka is the winner."

Triss puts down her book and says, "But are we talking about Game of Thrones Sophie Turner, or post-Game of Thrones?"

"Red-head Sophie," Ciri decides. "Then Priyanka, then blonde Sophie."

"Mm, Priyanka, then Joe, then blonde Sophie,  _ then  _ red-head Sophie, then Nick," Julian argues.

Yennefer bows gracefully out of the conversation and checks her phone, which has an unread message from Geralt.

**_Geralt (5:03 PM):_ ** _ Sorry for earlier. How's she doing? _

Yen glances over at Ciri with a private smile.

**_Yen (5:05 PM):_ ** _ She's better, arguing with Julian over your least favorite topic: celebrity attractiveness xoxo _

**_Geralt (5:05 PM):_ ** _ Tell J I picked the opposite of whatever he's saying. Love you too. _

Yen looks at Julian, very carefully maintains a straight face, and says, "Geralt thinks Kevin is the hottest."

This statement triggers a new round of outrage. Yen turns to Triss and gives her a conspiratorial look; Triss returns it with a nod and picks her book back up.

~*~

They walk to the froyo place down the block after finishing at the nail salon and ruin their appetites for dinner; Julian creates himself a horrifying gummy bear monstrosity and then exercises a shocking amount of restraint in making Geralt's order—sugar-free vanilla with Nerds and exactly zero other toppings. 

Yennefer makes Renfri's alongside her own and then insists on paying for Ciri's at the counter, too.

"I can pay for my own!" Ciri is insisting, her hands wringing restlessly like she's considering snatching her cup off the scale. "You've already been so nice—"

"I'm the adult," Yen says evenly, handing over her credit card to the bemused cashier. "You're in my care. I am pulling rank."

Ciri pulls out a thin stack of bills that were apparently hidden in her phone case (smart girl) and stuffs two dollars into the tip jar with a jutted-out bottom lip.

Yen's nostrils flare with amusement. She tips on the card anyway and grabs her two bowls of frozen yogurt.

"Are we eating here or on the drive?" she asks the group as Triss puts her bowl on the scale.

Triss fishes her wallet out of her purse and asks, "Can we eat on the way? Roommate meeting tonight."

"Sure," Yen agrees. She looks around for Julian, who paid first and immediately became distracted by a group of pretty undergrad girls. 

Shockingly age-appropriate. 

"Julian," Yen says sternly. "We're leaving."

Julian's head snaps up immediately. He waves goodbye to the girls—two of which are now glaring at Yennefer in confusion—and takes his and Geralt's froyo with him.

Honestly, that kind of responsiveness is  _ wasted  _ on Geralt, sexually. Not that Yen's thought about it. Much.

Ciri shouts, "Shotgun!" as soon as the group steps outside and bolts across the street for the car.

"Oh, for God's— _ look both ways!"  _ Yen shouts after her—and is immediately horrified at how tragically uncool she sounds.

There's a 'walk' sign at the crosswalk, anyway. 

Ciri waves at them from the opposite sidewalk, looking sharp and soft all at once in mint green Doc Martens and a floral romper. It's strange, how she mostly just looks like a tiny person perfectly capable of disobeying traffic laws if she wants to, and yet something fiercely protective snarls from within Yennefer's ribcage at the sight of her.

Yen thinks about what Eist told her in his perfect house—and then the look on Ciri's face when she begged not to go inside.

She crosses the street.

Julian whines about losing his shotgun privileges, but sits behind Yennefer and consoles himself by jamming his knees into the back of her seat.

Yen rolls her eyes and tucks her and Renfri's froyo cups into the cupholders in her center console. She keeps a spoon between her teeth and steals bites for herself while she waits for the light to change so she can pull out of the parking lot.

At least it's quiet except for the radio. A quick look in her rearview mirror tells her that Julian is distracted by his phone, texting furiously—God knows with who. 

Ciri is staring out the window, fingers tapping restlessly on the side of her cup. Her expression is suddenly subdued again, which is fucking baffling. 

Are all teenagers this moody? Yen tries to remember being young and finds it too distasteful to follow through.

She guns it out of the parking lot to get in front of a straggling car before the light changes and they get trapped in this godforsaken parking lot for another cycle—then smoothly cuts across three lanes of traffic to make a left turn.

They're coasting down Main Street when Ciri asks, "How do you know you really like someone? Like, in real life, not a celebrity."

Yen flicks her eyes over to her, then up to the rearview mirror where she catches both Julian and Triss looking up with interest.

Julian says, "Well, first of all, as a future celebrity—"

"Jesus," says Yen, "Christ."

"—they  _ are  _ real people, but I understand what you mean." Julian sits up, the weird pressure on the back of Yen's chair falling away. "And honestly, it really depends on the person, and the type of attraction you mean. Like, there's aesthetic attraction, romantic, erm, sexual—"

"I mean like a—" Ciri hesitates. "Like a crush."

Julian says, "I mean, I like a lot of people. I'm, like—and we'll just acknowledge Yennefer's eyeroll in advance—I fall a little in love with almost everyone."

Yen wasn't going to roll her eyes, but now she feels like she has to.

"I don't think I'm, you know—is this helpful?" Julian continues without waiting for an answer. "But I think it's like, a feeling in your stomach, like how people say you get butterflies? And maybe you think a lot about wanting to be close to them, or wanting to cuddle or kiss them or, well, you—you have the Internet."

"You can say 'sex,'" Ciri says testily. "I'm not a baby."

"Oh, thank God," says Julian. "I didn't wanna be weird. Probably this is weird now? I know I'm a writer and everything, but it's honestly really hard for me to, like, differentiate, I guess, between platonic and romantic or sexual."

Yen snorts. "There's no one you wouldn't fuck?"

"I mean, assuming  _ consent,"  _ Julian tells her. "But, I mean, for the most part? If I like someone, I like them all the ways, and I'm attracted to all kinds of genders, so."

Ciri frowns thoughtfully.

Julian says. "Yen, how do you know you've got a crush?"

It's not something Yen tends to discuss. She meets someone, she wants them, she usually gets them. 

Since her surgery, anyway.

The idea of spelling it out now makes a line of tension pull in her shoulders. But it could be important to Ciri.

"When I was younger," she says slowly, "I thought I was straight. I dated my first boyfriend because he made me feel better about myself—and I dumped him when my priorities shifted."

Or she thought they had.

"But then in college, I thought more about dating and figured out I could like girls and other genders too." Yen glances in her rearview. Julian is watching her intently; Triss is looking out the window. "And I guess for me, the sexual and romance pieces are more separate. I can sleep with someone I don't find emotionally appealing at all, or vice versa."

"See, that's fucking  _ fascinating _ to me!" Julian cuts in. "I don't think I've ever felt that way."

Yen flicks her eyes over to check her side mirror.

"Triss," Julian asks, "how do you know when you've got a crush?"

There's a weighted pause. Triss closes her book and says, "I've never had one."

Oh. That's news to Yennefer—though maybe she could've put two and two together. She keeps her gaze on the road.

Julian says, "Well, I'm an asshole."

"It wasn't a secret or anything," Triss tells him lightly. "You're all always so wrapped up in your own drama, it's easy to not notice what isn't happening."

Ciri turns around in her seat, peering at Triss through the gap between the headrest and the chair back. "Do you want a crush?"

"I had my insecurities when I was younger," Triss answers. Yen catches a flash of an indulgent smile in the rearview. "But I like my life now, and I don't think it's any less full without sex or dating."

"Thanks for telling us about it," Ciri says warmly, and a sparking twist of affection flutters in Yen's stomach. "I know people can suck about, um, that stuff, so it's cool you trusted us."

This scared, stubborn girl is so, so kind. The world's going to eat her alive.

Not before it gets through Yen.

"The most important thing to remember," Yen tells her, foot on the gas to speed through a yellow light, "is that there's nothing— _ nothing  _ wrong with you for liking, or not liking, who you do. Anyone who tries to tell you differently belongs in the dirt."

Ciri shifts in her seat again; Yen can feel her wide-set eyes on her, glances over and catches the way they're shining sadly in the evening light.

"What if it's someone you love?" she asks.

Yen says, "Love someone who deserves it."

"But I can't!" Ciri protests. "I can't just—just stop loving my family, can I?"

Yen parks in the middle of the road outside Triss's building and throws on her hazard lights.

Cars pull around them in a steady stream. All strangers, all people who won't know that Yennefer lived or died. It makes her skin itch, like it's too small for what lives inside her.

Julian says, "I think that there's—that there's a lot of ways to love someone, you know, and that… I think about this a lot. I think when you love something it can hurt you. Sometimes you have to love really carefully."

Yennefer thinks of Geralt wiping down an empty bar, of Renfri bolting awake in an empty bed. She thinks of the metal in her spine and the rigid bone and the length she keeps her fingernails.

Triss isn't getting out of the car. She's looking out at the sidewalk, her face turned enough that Yen can't see her expression.

Ciri tells Julian, "I thought you said you love everyone."

Julian's smile is closed-lipped and off-putting. "But I don't go home over the summer."

No one knows what to say. A car blares its horn behind them.

"... I guess I better go," Triss says, unbuckling her seatbelt. She leans over and gives Julian a hug; he returns it carefully, melting frozen yogurt still in one hand. Then she reaches forward and squeezes Ciri's arm. "You're a good kid, Ciri. It'll be okay."

Ciri purses her lips together and says, "Thanks."

Triss gathers up her things and climbs out of the car. She meets Yen's eye through the windshield and smiles, faint but sure.

Yen nods back and drives away.

**Ciri.**

When they get home from dropping Triss off, Renfri is on the couch playing video games and Geralt is reading in a balding recliner, patches of once-plush fabric worn thin and discolored. Ciri is still unlacing her boots, but she watches the others move around the apartment. 

Neither of them looked up when the door opened, but Renfri squeezes Yen's wrist when Yen puts her melting froyo in her lap.

Jaskier smooches Geralt's temple and wiggles the cup in his face. "Hi, trade you for snuggles?"

"Mm," Geralt answers, which is somehow a good enough answer—Jaskier puts the cup on the end table and squishes Geralt under his full weight, the recliner wobbling dangerously to accommodate them both. "Nice nails."

Ciri sets her boots neatly by the door. Jaskier and Yen's shoes are just thrown around the entryway; she fixes them.

"Ciri suggested it," Jaskier says, wiggling his fingers in Geralt's face. "Apparently the multicolored thing is in vogue these days."

Yen reaches over and scratches lightly at Geralt's scalp. "Saying 'in vogue' isn't in vogue."

Jaskier gasps dramatically. "It is if you have  _ class." _

"Barf," says Renfri. 

Ciri finishes reorganizing the shoe rack. She lingers awkwardly by the door, watching Yen tweak Geralt's ear before walking around the couch to get to the far side, where she sits and lets Renfri prop her feet in her lap.

Jaskier drops the conversation and pulls his phone back out. It seems like he and Geralt should both be really uncomfortable, the way the recliner is tipping back to hold them. But Geralt drops his head a little so his chin is propped on Jaskier's shoulder and goes back to reading his book and Jaskier shifts to be in more of a partial sprawl.

"Ciri," says Yen. "Do you wanna sit?"

Ciri jumps slightly, totally unprepared for being addressed. 

"Oh," she says, "um, sure?"

She walks over to the couch and waits awkwardly while Renfri moves her legs out of the way to make room for her.

"Thanks." Ciri stirs her melting froyo around in her cup. "Um, you can put your feet back up if you want, I don't mind."

Renfri says, "Chill," and does just that.

There's a single beat of silence and then Jaskier asks, "So was, like, everyone else in on the Triss thing or…?"

"What thing?" Renfri asks.

Ciri frowns. She doesn't think they should gossip about this stuff, but then again—maybe it's different when you're all friends.

"Apparently not," says Yen.

"The—the—" Jaskier makes a disgruntled noise. "Actually, I didn't even ask her to clarify, oh my god, I'm the  _ worst,  _ Yennefer, how'd you interpret that?"

Geralt grunts and puts down his book.

"I think it was basically implied," Yen answers. "She's not interested in dating. Did you two know that?"

Geralt says, "Never came up."

"Of course it didn't," Jaskier says.

"Well thank God I never tried to set her up with anyone," Yen says. "Avoided that shoe-in-mouth."

Renfri snorts. "We literally don't have other friends, babe."

"I have colleagues," Yen argues, crossing her arms. "I know plenty of people—"

Ciri's phone buzzes in her pocket. She rests her froyo on her knee and checks her messages, hoping it's Dara again.

It isn't. 

**_Grandpa [sunglasses emoji] (7:55 PM):_ ** _ Hey cub it's ok if u don't wanna play but lmk soon so we can find an alt for the raid k… love u _

Fuck. Ciri was actually starting to feel  _ better.  _ Getting her nails done was really soothing and the conversation felt so nice, even if it was hard, and she just—

She forgot, for a little while. That she's letting Grandpa down. That her grandparents might—

"What's wrong?" Yen asks, her fingers brushing questioningly at Ciri's wrist bone.

Ciri purses her lips together and holds out her phone. There's a bunch of other texts from Grandpa that she hasn't read yet; she keeps her eyes fixed on Yen's face while Yen looks.

"Do you wanna play?" Yen asks her.

Ciri wants to pretend everything's fine. She wants to be little again—little enough to kick a soccer ball through a window and barely get scolded because she didn't know any better and all anyone cares about is if she's okay.

Or she wants to be big. She wants to tilt her chin up and stand with her shoulders squared like Yennefer, like her grandmother, and she wants to be like something fear can't touch.

Her body is the wrong size for either heart.

"I'll teach you," says Yennefer. "It's easy once you realize it."

Ciri blinks, refocusing on the crooked smile on Yen's face. "What?"

"Saying 'no' to shit." Yen tugs Ciri's phone out of her hands and types out a quick message, but doesn't send it. "There. He's a big boy, he can deal with it."

**_Ciri (unsent):_ ** _ I'm not playing tonight. _

Ciri bites her bottom lip. Can she really just… do that?

To her family?

_ No one likes a pushover,  _ Yen had said. And it's—Grandpa says he loves her. He still wants to  _ play  _ because he loves her. And that means he shouldn't make her do it if she doesn't want to.

**_Ciri (8:01 PM):_ ** _ I'm not playing tonight. I love you _

"Good," Yen praises smugly.

Ciri taps her fingers against her phone case, waiting for an answer.

"Renfri," Jaskier says, "pass me the remote?"

The TV switches on with a  _ pop  _ from the speakers, but Ciri doesn't look up. She stares at her screen until her vision goes blurry and she has to blink to refocus.

Music starts playing—something upbeat and retro, maybe from the 80s or 90s?—and there's a sudden commotion to go with it. The recliner creaking in protest and Geralt cursing reticently.

"Oh, c'mon, Ger-bear," Jaskier is wheedling, which makes Ciri look up with a giggle. He's on his feet and trying to tug Geralt there too, pulling him by both wrists. "We  _ never  _ get to dance while you're on the clock!"

"I don't dance," Geralt says flatly, but there's a softness to his face even though he isn't really smiling.

Jaskier huffs and tugs harder. "Please, darling, be  _ more  _ of a cliche."

Ciri puts her phone facedown on her thigh.

"Okay," says Geralt. "Let me get my leather jacket."

_ "Ugh,  _ seducing me won't get you out of this!" Jaskier tells him, but he does drop one of Geralt's hands to prop a fist on his hip.

Ciri bites her bottom lip and looks down at her phone again. She wants to know what Grandpa will say, but… it's not gonna make her feel better to just sit around waiting, is it?

She tosses her phone onto the couch and offers, "I'll dance with you, Jaskier."

Jaskier claps his hands together and skips around the coffee table, then stumbles directly into an exaggerated bow.

"It would be an honor, my lady," he says and extends a hand. 

Ciri giggles again and places her hand in his, allowing herself to be led around the back of the couch, further away from the coffee table and anything else they could knock into.

Jaskier drops her hand once they get to the makeshift dance floor and immediately starts jumping around in a really goofy, almost frantic way.

If this is how he always dances, Ciri doesn't blame Geralt for staying in his chair. She'd be totally embarrassed to flail around like that in public. He's not even doing real  _ moves. _

"Oh my  _ God,"  _ says Yen. "What am I looking at."

"It's called  _ art,  _ Yennefer," Jaskier shoots back, still jumping up and down. "Ciri, show 'em."

Ciri smiles exasperatedly. "I couldn't do whatever this is if I wanted to."

But, Ciri thinks privately, watching the happy flush spreading across Jaskier's face as he grins wildly, maybe she  _ would  _ want to. Wouldn't it be nice to be so—so unembarrassed for once?

It's not like she has anything to prove to this group. They already see her like a kid, and they all seem to really like Jaskier; they won't care if she does something a little cringey.

So Ciri dances. She starts off just staying in place and then shuffling her feet a little, putting her hands up and bopping to the beat. It's a fast song, like classic pop, and the more she moves to it the more she gets why Jaskier is jumping around like he is. 

It's like it burrows under her skin. How can she be in a bad mood when music like this exists?

"Fuck it," Renfri says from the couch. "Dignity's overrated—c'mon, babe."

She pulls her shirt over her head, revealing a sports bra underneath, and tries to bring Yen with her.

"Absolutely not," Yennefer says, flaring her nostrils with an amused smirk. Her wrists are limp when Renfri grabs her hands.

"You owe me for the thing," Renfri argues and gives Yen another tug. Ciri stops dancing to watch them—Renfri is actually, like,  _ really  _ ripped. She could probably make Yennefer get up if she really wanted to. "Remember?"

Yen laughs and actually takes Renfri's hands to be helped to her feet.  _ "That's  _ what you're going to use that on?"

"When in fuckin' Rome," says Renfri.

Ciri smiles when they both join her and Jaskier. Yen loops her arms around Renfri's neck and drags her in close, like her classmates do at parties sometimes. It's not really a sexy song or anything, but they're kinda acting like it is.

It's… Ciri's not sure. She tries to imagine dancing like that with someone. With a girl? Yennefer's the prettiest girl Ciri's ever seen, and Renfri has this soft masc aesthetic that Ciri always feels like she fixates on, and she just—wants to make sense of it. Shouldn't it be easier?

When Yennefer and the others grew up, this country was a lot different. Ciri has it easy, compared to them. What's wrong with her—that she still can't figure it out?

The recliner groans when Geralt stands up. He combs his fingers through his hair and then puts it up into a messy bun as he walks around the couch to their makeshift dance floor.

_ "Hello,  _ handsome!" Jaskier says. "Do my eyes deceive me?"

Geralt tilts his head like a puppy dog, smiling softly, and—

Ciri does know one thing, and it's that she wants to look at someone like that one day. She wants someone to look at her that way back.

"I warned you," Geralt says, and starts to… dance?

He's really just shuffling in place. His hands are facing palm-out near his chest, waving back and forth kind of on the beat.

"Oh my  _ God."  _ Jaskier puts a hand up to his mouth.  _ "Sweetheart." _

"Don't make fun of me," Geralt says.

"Ciri, you're a Young People," Jaskier says, ignoring Geralt's complaints. "Teach Geralt something hip."

Ciri laughs nervously. "I don't know any of the cool dances."

"No, no, Geralt's onto something," Yen says, unwinding herself from Renfri. "This is the next big trend."

She puts her hands up and copies his movement, leaving the scars Ciri's been politely pretending not to notice on full display.

Geralt takes a step forward and laces their hands together. His eyes are sparking with something so bright that Ciri doesn't know how anyone stands it, and then he and Yen start to move.

The song changes to something just as manic as the last one. Ciri recognizes the artist this time—Britney Spears. Geralt and Yen shuffle around in a circle—

"Let me  _ lead,  _ Geralt, honestly, who're you trying to fool?"

—while Jaskier shouts with joy and starts singing along to every word as he jumps up and down.

"Ugh," Renfri says. She looks over at Ciri and smirks. "You sure you don't know any moves, kid?"

Ciri smiles back tentatively. "Maybe I can try out a few."

~*~

**_Grandpa [sunglasses emoji] (8:05 PM):_ ** _ K… thnx for letting me kno… love u 2 _

~*~

**_Grandpa [sunglasses emoji] (9:31 PM):_ ** _ Give grandma a call when u c this… ur breaking her heart _

~*~

"Yen," Ciri whispers to the ceiling. It's pitch black; even the light in Geralt and Jaskier's room went off a little while ago. "Are you awake?"

Yen asks, "What is it?" at a normal speaking volume.

Ciri blinks slowly. She doesn't know what the point of keeping her eyes open is, but it feels like there is one. "Why do you wanna be a mom?"

There's a long pause. Ciri wonders if she's dreaming—if she imagined the first answer to her question.

"Do you know what nihilism is?" Yen asks.

Ciri frowns. "What?"

"Nothing matters," Yen says matter of factly. "We get spit out into the world and it doesn't care about us and then we die."

Silence.

"Yikes," Ciri jokes half-heartedly.

"Why do you think people keep living?" asks Yen.

Ciri shifts onto her side, feeling the air mattress squeak under her weight. She can almost see the outline of Yen's body on the couch, knows it's a trick of her brain. Keeps imagining it.

"I don't know," she says.

"Because we decided we matter anyway," Yen tells her. "We went and fucking made something out of it. I didn't get that when I was young."

Ciri tugs at the blanket where it's slipping off her shoulders.

"I guess I think the only thing worth being is important," Yennefer says. Her voice is getting smaller and smaller, like she's remembering how late at night it is. "Important to someone who'll remember you. Or what was the fucking point?"

Ciri thinks about her parents, dressed in sharp suits and speaking into microphones for hundreds of thousands of people to hear. The laws they help get passed that protect millions of people who need it more than her and how tired Mom would sound on the phone when Ciri tried to call and say goodnight. 

She doesn't know what she thinks about the world. She doesn't know if it wants her or if it'll be better because she loved one person or didn't and she doesn't know how to make it any better even though she wants to.

But she wants to believe it'll make a difference. It's why she stopped calling.

"Aren't there a lot of ways to be important?" she asks.

"Yes," Yennefer says firmly. She never says anything like she doesn't mean it; it's like her superpower. "I'm going to be all of them."

Ciri closes her eyes.

~*~

There's water running in the kitchen. Ciri hides her face in her pillow, expecting there to be light coming through the windows—but then she realizes there isn't. 

She lifts her head, blinking with confusion, and realizes that there's only the bright white glow from a phone's flashlight app illuminating the sink and backlighting Geralt's insanely broad back.

Ciri scrubs at her face. She squints at her phone, which says it's a little after three AM. She scrubs at her face again.

Geralt puts a dish on the drying rack.

Ciri carefully rolls off the air mattress and walks over to the kitchen table, where she pulls out a chair and sits down.

Geralt doesn't turn around, but he does say, "Sorry."

"Um," Ciri asks, "what're you doing?"

"Dishes," says Geralt.

Ciri blinks. "Why?"

"Can't sleep." Geralt adds more soap to the sponge. "Happens sometimes."

"Oh," says Ciri. She looks away from the light, focusing on the refrigerator instead—there's a row of plants in little pots on top of it, and more on the windowsill on the perpendicular wall. "I'm sorry."

Geralt hums; Ciri assumes that means  _ it's fine. _

Ciri taps her fingers on the table. It'd probably be fine if she went back to bed—it's not like he asked her to keep him company.

"I'm sorry for earlier," she says.

"Hm?" Geralt asks.

"In the car," Ciri clarifies. She tries to keep her voice steady, like Yen. "The stuff you said—it did really help. I just, um… sometimes it's really hard for me because I just feel so—so much all of a sudden? And I get really dramatic or whatever."

Silverware clinks together in the sink. Geralt says, "I was like that too."

Ciri looks back over at him with her eyes widened; it hurts in the light. "You were?"

Geralt leaves the water on and dries his hands off on a dishtowel, then redoes the bun in his hair. He picks up a mug and dumps out whatever was in it and finally says, "I was a bad kid."

Something wrenches in Ciri's stomach.

"I don't believe that," she tells him. "Not at all."

"Everyone said so," he answers, and sets the mug down calmly. "So I tried to be… good."

Ciri drags her teeth over her bottom lip. All she can think about is that hideous snapping turtle's face and how gently Geralt handled it and fireworks from the top of a rusty old truck and a soccer ball through a window that Geralt paid for.

"Do you think you did it?" she asks.

"It's hard for me to talk about myself," Geralt tells her instead. "So sometimes I shut down, like in the car. I'm sorry I fucked it up."

Ciri shakes her head, but he can't see her. He's still doing the dishes, scrubbing at a pile of silverware one piece at a time.

"You didn't," she says. "It's just not something you can fix all at once and I just—I was being childish about it and—and I know I need to grow up but—"

"Stop."

She does.

Geralt shuts off the tap. He's still holding a fork in one hand, the silver glinting off the pinprick flashlight, and he sets it down so gently in the silence that Ciri doesn't even try to put her thoughts back together.

He reaches for one of his plants on the windowsill instead, cupping it carefully in the palm of his hand.

"I don't want you to turn out like me," he says eventually. His thumb traces over one of the leaves, barely in Ciri's line of sight. "That's why I didn't want you to come here."

But he twirled Yennefer around the living room.

He let her lead without making a big deal out of it because he's the boy and he complimented Jaskier's manicure even though Ciri had been worried people would make fun of him and he brought Ciri to the barn and told her she was allowed to feel whatever she wanted.

And Ciri says, "That's bullshit."

Geralt turns around. He's still backlit by the flashlight, but he must be able to set the way Ciri's jaw is set.

She swallows, feeling her teeth dig into the side of her tongue. "You're not bad just because someone said you were. It doesn't work that way—my Grandma says lots of people are bad she hasn't even met and that's—that's why I ran away, so I don't wanna hear it anymore. And if you want me to be nicer to myself then maybe you should, like, lead by example."

Ciri finishes and sucks in a sharp breath through her nose. 

"Wow," comes Yen's voice from the couch. "You really are a cool kid."

"Fuck," says Geralt, who's watching her pick her way over to them in the dark. "You heard all of that?"

"Most of it," Yen confirms. She pecks Geralt on the cheek. "How's it feel to get schooled by a teenager, love?"

Geralt aims a faintly outlined smile at Ciri. "Pretty good."

Ciri's face feels hot. She wants to apologize for losing her temper, but she won't. Not in front of Yen.

"Sorry. Uh, again," Geralt tells her. "I should be the adult. And you're right, it's not helpful for me to be hard on myself—old habits."

"It's okay," Ciri answers.

"I think what I meant," Geralt says slowly, "is that I'm still… trying to figure shit out. And that's okay. But the same people who told me I was a bad kid told me it was bad to feel so much, and it's been hard for me to unlearn that."

Yen pulls Geralt against her side, resting her head against his bicep. Ciri can see, on the edge of a beam of light, the way Yen's fingers are scrunched in his shirt.

"Um, thanks for explaining," Ciri tells him. "For what it's worth, you haven't made me feel that way. I just wish I didn't—" she laughs awkwardly and scrubs at her cheeks. "Feel like crying all the time?"

Yen promises, "That'll get better. I know it doesn't fix anything and it sucks, but you should still know—it's survivable. And you can always talk to us."

Ciri sniffs. "I know. People keep telling me that."

But they don't always mean it.

Geralt puts his plant back in its place, taking the time to nudge it all the way against the glass. He tells Yen, "You should tell her what you do."

"What's that?" Yen asks.

"When you wanna kill a student," Geralt says wryly, "and don't wanna go to jail."

Ciri giggles.

"Well," Yen says primly, and pulls up a chair. "The first thing is that anyone who tries to tell you that you aren't allowed to feel something wants to make you easier to control. That's even more true when you're a girl."

Ciri nods. Geralt turns the faucet back on and picks up another fork.

"Feeling something tells you what you want," Yennefer continues. "And you should get what you want."

Ciri asks, "But what if what you want hurts someone else? Like, um, literally, in your case."

Yennefer snorts. In profile with Geralt's phone light, her smile is crookedly in relief. "Sometimes the best thing to do isn't your first idea. Shocking, I know. That's what I learned with age and you're getting a headstart on now."

Ciri smiles back. "Adulthood speedrun."

"I have no idea what that means," says Yennefer. "But sure."

"I guess I try to do that?" Ciri says, frowning down at the brand new polish on her nails. "I mean, I don't wanna say mean stuff to people or yell or—I guess part of me does, and sometimes I know I'll feel stupid afterwards but I do it anyway."

Yen asks, "Why do you feel stupid? You're not."

_ You wouldn't think that if you knew what I said,  _ Ciri thinks. Ironically, keeps it to herself.

"I don't know," she mumbles. "I just—"

She cuts off. 

Yen sighs. "You know, I'm trying to be, I don't know, moderate, but it's actually shit."

"Yen," Geralt says cautiously.

"I just think we should be a little more authentic, Geralt," Yen shoots back, but she keeps her eyes on Ciri. Bright in the bad light, pretty in that too-big way like movie stars are. "And the truth is that I don't give a fuck if it's better to watch your tongue. I tried it. It didn't agree with me."

Ciri's back straightens with a flare of irritation. "But you literally just said—"

"I'm a hypocrite," Yen says evenly. "Deal with it."

"That doesn't help me at all!" Ciri snaps. "'Your first idea isn't your best one, Ciri—oh, except for me, because I'm a grow-up and I can do whatever I want!'"

Yen leans forward, suddenly blocking the light from Geralt's phone with one hunched shoulder, and points enthusiastically at Ciri's face.

_ "There,"  _ she says smugly. "You're pissed off at me, and you  _ should  _ be. Why should you pretend you aren't?"

"She's a kid," Geralt says gruffly, his shoulders in a tense line. "It's not always safe."

Ciri looks back at Yen—expecting her to be angry, or at least snipe something quick-witted back.

She doesn't. And she isn't. There's something pained there instead, and she's finally looking at Geralt with her hair falling in her face and a gentle parting of her lips.

"Nothing ever is, is it?" Yen asks, like she wants a real answer. 

Geralt adds another plate to the drying rack.

Ciri blurts, "I'm sorry."

Yen looks back at her. "You're what?"

"I'm sorry," Ciri repeats, looking between them. "Um, I just—I didn't mean to upset you?"

"No, sweetheart." Yen reaches out in the dark, brushing the tips of her fingers over Ciri's knuckles where they flex in the blue-light sheen on the table. "Don't apologize for needing something. Ever."

Geralt finishes the dishes; he turns off the sink and then dries his hands, and carries his phone over to the table with the flashlight carefully pointed away. When he sits down, he puts his phone face-down on the empty chair between him and Ciri, the harsh light now casting them all in unnerving shadow.

Yen and Geralt both have bags under their eyes.

Ciri remembers that it's three AM. She remembers her phone hidden under her pillow, still collecting missed calls.

What happens when you need an absence?

There are so many things that Ciri wishes she could be. Cheerful like Jaskier, unapologetic like Renfri. Kind like Geralt and assertive like Yen. 

She wants her problems to be like the ones in books, because then it would make sense when she felt the way she did about them.

Instead she's sitting at a fake-wooden table, putting everything she has into not apologizing again.

"Um," Ciri says innocently, trying to keep the smile off her face. "If I'm supposed to say what I feel, and I feel like apologizing, then isn't that…?"

Yen snorts and says, "Shithead."

_ "Yen,"  _ Geralt scolds, but his voice sounds lighter than before.

"What? I can say whatever I want," Yen argues, meeting Ciri's eyes with a playful smile. "I'm not her real mother."

Ciri almost shoots something sassy back, but Yen's mouth goes a little lopsided—like maybe what she said caught up with her. 

It only lasts a split second, but Ciri's not feeling clever anymore.

The silence is interrupted by Geralt's door opening—Jaskier looks like he's beelining for the bathroom, but he does a double take when he sees them all in the kitchen. 

Then he vanishes into Renfri's room with a weird tilt of his head.

Geralt looks at Yen and says, "I'll go."

Yen shakes her head. "Let me."

She pats Ciri on the hand when she stands up and goes to… join Jaskier in the bedroom?

No, replace him—Ciri catches her hand lingering on his arm as he slips back into the hallway instead, which is—

What the hell?

"Hey, sweetheart," Jaskier murmurs, sounding hoarse and sleepy. He kisses Geralt on the top of the head and then drapes himself over the back of Geralt's chair. "Ev'rything okay?"

Geralt tilts his face up to nuzzle at Jaskier's cheek with a hum.

"Coulda woken me up," Jaskier tuts. His eyes droop shut before he's finished talking.

"Like your snoring too much," Geralt teases, shooting Ciri a conspiratorial smirk.

She covers her mouth with a half-giggle.

"Right." Jaskier blinks himself awake again, digging into that totally bizarre constant energy he has. "Back to bed or pot of coffee?"

"Hm," says Geralt. "Up to the guest of honor."

Ciri drums her fingers on the table. Obviously the smart thing to do would be going back to bed.

"... Being totally honest?" she asks.

They both nod.

Ciri shrugs sheepishly. "I've always wanted to do that thing where you go to, like, IHOP really late at night?"

Geralt's eyebrows go up to his hairline.

Jaskier grins delightedly and suggests, "There's a Waffle House down the block! I'll text Yennefer—and put on real pants? Yikes."

Ciri laughs, watching him go back to Geralt's room. She looks over at Geralt and confirms, "Um, you're sure it's okay?"

"Yeah." Geralt smiles and stands up. "Gonna put on a different shirt."

Ciri looks down at her own sleep clothes—an old tee shirt and shorts. That's probably fine, but maybe it'll be cold out? She can grab a jacket from her suitcase—but first she turns on the kitchen light, since Geralt takes his phone with him.

It's totally disorienting, even though she covers her eyes when she flips the switch. But she adjusts, like she always does, and opens up her suitcase. 

Something tugs at her ribcage, looking at all the clothes. Some of them are things she hasn't worn in years—but it's not like Yen could've known that. Ciri keeps meaning to ask to donate them somewhere, but she doesn't know how that works and it makes her feel like a jerk. 

Grandma keeps buying her more anyway. And she never complains or tells Ciri that she can't have something, even if Ciri can tell that Grandma thinks it's a stupid outfit.

The sweatshirt was like that. Grandma promised she'd take Ciri to the mall and told Ciri to bring a jacket, but Ciri 'forgot' it on purpose because it was so hot outside and she was being stubborn. 

She'd forgotten how cold it always is inside. And Grandma saw her rubbing at the goosebumps on her arms and took her to Hollister and bought her a hoodie in her favorite color, because she—

"Ciri?" Jaskier asks quietly. "Are you ready?"

For what?

Ciri closes her suitcase and gets to her feet with a nod.

"Yennefer's gonna catch up," Jaskier says. "We can head out whenever."

Ciri looks over and finds both him and Geralt watching her. She says, "Let me just get my shoes."

~*~

The walk to Waffle House isn't too bad. There are more people out than Ciri thought there would be on a Thursday—but sometimes she forgets it's a college town. Which is stupid, because it's why Grandma's club does so well, but it's not like Ciri's old enough to go there.

The diner itself is pretty packed too, but they manage to find a table. Geralt hunches over a menu in the corner with Jaskier next to him, already babbling about how he can't decide what to order.

Ciri sits down across from them and shivers when the cold plastic booth sticks to the backs of her thighs.

"Ciri, what're you getting?" Jaskier asks after a few minutes.

"Um." Ciri wobbles the laminated menu between two fingers with a skeptical frown. "What's good?"

"Nothing," says Yen, who shoos Jaskier out of the way so she can sit next to Geralt. "It's Waffle House."

Jaskier gasps, putting a hand to his chest as he slides into the booth next to Ciri. "How  _ dare  _ you? The Waffle House cuisine is unparalleled."

Renfri, who looks extra disheveled with an oversized sweatshirt and her hair in a frizzy mess, sits down on Yen's other side and bites Yen's sleeve.

Yen, apparently not bothered by that at all, retorts, "Unparalleled grease and shithole-ness, sure."

"I honestly just can't with you sometimes." Jaskier waves his hand in the air sharply. "Geralt, tell her!"

"Hm," says Geralt.

The waitress comes up to take their order. Before she can say anything, Yen lifts a finger and says, "Hi, yes,  _ so  _ much coffee."

"Why do you guys come here if you don't like it?" Ciri asks, watching the poor waitress shuffle away.

It's really bright in here. Like, unnaturally bright. 

"I never said I didn't  _ like  _ it." Yen folds her hands neatly on the table. "I said it isn't  _ good." _

"Waffle House is a rite of passage," Jaskier explains brightly. "You're not an Ox until you've gotten completely fucking blasted and seen a cryptid at the Waffle House."

Ciri tilts her head. "So it's like Denny's?"

Renfri spits out Yen's tee shirt and says, "Denny's is chaotic evil. Waffle House is chaotic good."

Jaskier nods sagely. "It protects those that enter it from all harm and hangover."

"I never know what any of you are on," Yen says mildly. "Julian, get pancakes."

"What if I don't want pancakes?" Jaskier asks.

Yen puts her menu down with narrowed eyes. "I want half your pancakes."

"Make Geralt get pancakes!" Jaskier protests.

"Geralt always gets a hashbrown bowl," Yen says.

Ciri offers, "I'll split pancakes with you, Yen."

"Get what you want," Yen tells her. "Don't let me boss you into it."

"But you're bossing Jaskier into it," Ciri argues.

"Someone has to." Yen gestures at Jaskier's face with a wave of her hand. "Look at him."

Jaskier says, "No argument there," and puts his menu down, too.

Ciri feels a little like she might be dreaming. She tries looking out the window, but the street is so dark compared to the flickering fluorescent glow inside. 

The AC kicks on; Ciri realizes she's right under the vent and rubs at her arms.

"Here, kid," Renfri says and chucks her sweatshirt across the table. It knocks Jaskier's straw out of his glass of water and flicks droplets everywhere, but Ciri catches it anyway.

"Um, thanks," she says, face going weirdly hot when she slips her arms into the sleeves like it's a snuggie. Renfri's only wearing a tank top underneath and no bra—her boobs are faintly outlined against the thin fabric and she flashes a dark tuft of underarm hair when she reaches for the coffee mug the waitress puts down in front of her.

The sweatshirt actually smells pretty bad—like sweat and kind of moldy? In the movies and songs and stuff when someone gives the main girl a jacket it always smells really good.

Not that this is totally like that, anyway. But it was nice, and Ciri's not sure that she smells super great either to be honest.

"And what'll you have, honey?" the waitress asks her.

Ciri panics, looking between the waitress and the menu. "Um… a waffle? Please."

"Get chocolate chips," Jaskier stage-whispers.

"With chocolate chips," Ciri parrots, then sees— "Oh! And peanut butter please. Thank you!"

The waitress smiles and walks away, stopping at another table before taking their order to the kitchen.

There's a mug of coffee in front of Ciri, like there is in front of everyone else. She watches Geralt dump a packet of sugar and two of those little creamer cups into his and stir methodically; Jaskier and Yen are both drinking theirs plain.

Ciri palms her mug in both hands, feeling the heat seep through the way too long sleeves of Renfri's sweatshirt, and blows on it cautiously.

"Do you drink coffee?" Yen asks with a raised eyebrow.

Ciri usually steals Grandpa's creamer cups and pretends she's doing shots when she drinks them.

"Yeah, totally," she says, and then almost spits it right back out when she takes a sip. "Oh my God,  _ ew!" _

Renfri brays like a donkey. Ciri pouts at Yen with a look of utter betrayal.

Jaskier pats her on the shoulder. "It was a good bluff."

"Don't laugh!" Ciri protests.

Geralt slides his mug across the table towards her with a kind—but also a little teasing—smile. "Don't drink it black. These two are masochists."

_ "Excuse  _ me!" Yen says, taking a dainty sip. "Some of us have a  _ mature  _ palate. I mean, I do. Who knows what the fuck is wrong is Julian."

"I thought you took it bitter like your soul, dearest," Jaskier says with a flutter of his eyelashes. "Also, I'm an addict."

Ciri giggles and takes Geralt's coffee, blowing on it like she did her own. With everyone's eyes on her, she takes a delicate sip. 

It's better, but still really bitter. Are there people who actually  _ like _ how this tastes, or are they all lying to themselves?

Ciri would rather drink a hot chocolate, or even orange juice or something. But she doesn't want everyone to think she's a baby. Like, she knows they don't see her as an adult or anything and honestly that's fine—but she wants to be, like, the cool kind of kid. 

"Trust me," Geralt tells her, gently taking his mug back. "You don't wanna need this shit anyway."

Ciri frowns at her own mug. She could try dumping in even more sugar and creamer than Geralt did and see if that helps make it bearable. But…

She glances over at Yen, who is pinching Geralt's cheek while she whispers something in his ear that makes him laugh quietly and wet his bottom lip. 

Yen probably doesn't like embarrassing things. Maybe because she refuses to be embarrassed.

Their waitress walks by carrying a bunch of drinks for another table. Ciri waves to get her attention on her way back and asks, "Um, excuse me, please?"

"What is it, honey?" the waitress answers.

Ciri clinks her nails against the side of her mug. "Do you have hot chocolate?"

"We do." The waitress smiles and flips to a different page in her little notebook. "Do you want whipped cream on that, sugar?"

Before Ciri can answer, Jaskier drums his hands on the table really fast and excitedly and says, "Ciri, you're a  _ genius!  _ Can I get one too?"

"Dude,  _ fuck  _ yes," says Renfri. "Me three."

Ciri smiles back at the waitress, slipping her hands into the sleeves of her sweatshirt. "Um, yes to whipped cream, please."

~*~

It's after four in the morning by the time they finish eating and all walk back to the apartment. Part of Ciri wants to stay up for the sunrise, but she thinks that's probably pushing it too far. She's never pulled an all-nighter before, even at sleepovers. 

Maybe one day—

There's no point in thinking that now. She has no idea if Geralt and the others will even want her to come back after this weekend.

Geralt unlocks the door for everyone and does the thing where he lifts and pushes at the same time to get it open. They all pour inside and Jaskier turns on a floor lamp near the couch as their only light source.

The sound of shoes being chucked everywhere makes Ciri's eye twitch. Geralt unties his sneakers and puts them neatly on the shoe rack; Ciri purses her lips when she lines her boots up right next to a pair of his.

"This reminds me of college," Jaskier says wistfully, and swan-dives onto the couch in a way that looks super uncomfortable.

"You  _ are  _ in college," Yen says incredulously. "You could not be  _ more  _ in college."

Jaskier cranes his neck around to look at her.  _ "Not  _ true. I mean freshman year college! Peak college! Coming home drunk and dogpiling on a random dorm room floor and sleeping for fourteen hours college. I'm past my prime, Yennefer."

"Your experiences aren't universal, bro," Renfri says with her mouth already full of someone's leftovers.

"And your prime was before you could talk," Yen shoots back.

Ciri picks up Jaskier's Converse and puts them next to Geralt's sneakers.

"That's true," Jaskier agrees. "I was an incredibly easy baby, apparently. Thank God I got  _ that  _ out of my system."

Renfri dumps the empty takeout container on the coffee table, wipes her fingers off on her tank top, and then sprawls out on the recliner with her eyes closed.

"Yeah," Yen says drily. "Thank God."

Geralt hands Ciri one of Yen's shoes with a nod. She tucks it into the proper spot and smiles.

"Anyway," Jaskier asks, "we're obviously all camping out, aren't we?"

Everyone looks at Ciri, who's currently holding another shoe.

"Is that okay?" Geralt asks her quietly.

Ciri puts the shoe down, carefully nudging it into place. It's nice, how they all wait for her to be ready to give an answer.

She glances up at Jaskier with a twinkle in her eye and says, "Obviously."

~*~

Ciri wakes up to a gargled groan from somewhere on her left—or is it her right? She's laying in a sleeping bag on the floor, because she gave the air mattress to Jaskier and Geralt and refused to take no for an answer.

She lifts her head. It looks like the groan came from Yen, who's glaring at her phone from the couch. A light's on in the kitchen, where Geralt is stirring something on the stove. Renfri is still on the recliner with her eyes closed and Jaskier is muttering, "What is it?"

Yen drops the hand holding her phone to her side. "Triss wants to go to the aquarium before work."

"Ughhh," whines Jaskier. "I feel like I have a hangover and I didn't even drink. What time's it?"

"Eleven-thirty." Yen pinches the bridge of her nose. "I'm too old for this fucking shit. We went last month."

Renfri mutters, "You two dickwads owe her for being weird yesterday."

Jaskier sighs dramatically. The air mattress makes a horrible squeaking sound when he pushes against it to sit up, scrubbing at his face. "I'll make more coffee."

Ciri sits up too with an excited flip from her stomach. "Are we really going?"

"If you wanna come," Yen confirms. She picks her phone back up and starts texting.

"Can my friend Dara come?" Ciri asks. "We've been saying we'd go all summer."

"Sure," Yen agrees. "Will he need a ride? We might need to take two cars."

Ciri grabs her phone where she tucked it under the coffee table before falling asleep. "I'll ask. Both his parents work, but his dad's a nurse so he might be home today."

"I'm not coming anyway," Renfri tells Yen. "I've seen the fish."

**_Ciri (11:34 AM):_ ** _ Hi!!!! Wanna come to the aquarium with people we can give you a ride [grinning emoji] _

"Ger?" Yen asks.

"Mhm," says Geralt.

Jaskier rolls to his feet and walks towards the bedrooms. "I'm taking my shirt back!"

"Whatever," Renfri says.

**_Dara (11:35 AM):_ ** _ Sick lemme ask Dad _

Ciri worms her way out of the sleeping bag, tugging her shorts down to cover more of her thighs as she stands. "Um, how soon are we leaving?"

Yen is texting too. "Who needs to shower?"

_ "Me,"  _ Jaskier shouts from Renfri's room.

Ciri runs a hand through her hair and discretely sniffs under her arm. "Me too."

"I'll take a quick one first. Everyone out the door in an hour or I'll leave you behind," Yen announces.

That's Ciri's cue to pick out an outfit. Or—

"Breakfast," Geralt says.

That first. 

She sits at the table texting with Dara while she eats—his dad is chill with him coming and can give him a ride, so that's easy. They talk about the shows that are playing and what exhibits to hit first, if they can. 

Ciri stirs her oatmeal around, staring at the little dinosaur shapes as they leave bright spots of sugar behind while they melt. She hasn't had this kind of oatmeal since she was a kid, but she doesn't think anyone went out and bought it for her specifically. 

They must just like it.

Jaskier joins them after a few minutes, still dressed in the grumpy cat shirt he slept in, and gasps woundedly when Ciri immediately beats him at a game of rock paper scissors for next shower.

"You cheated, didn't you?" he accuses, wagging his spoon at her. A glob of oatmeal plops onto the table.

Ciri giggles.

Yen emerged from the bathroom with her hair wrapped up in a towel and another one around her middle.

"Chop chop," she says. "Who's next?"

Ciri hops up and takes her bowl to the sink, where she fills it with water to soak. Then, she drags her suitcase into Renfri's room and grabs herself two towels from the hall closet like Renfri told her to do from now on and walks into the steamed-up shower.

The weird humidity in a bathroom like this is always disorienting. Ciri strips out of her clothes and sniffs her arm again with a curled lip. Ew. That's what she gets for not sucking it up and asking to borrow deodorant yesterday.

Actually showering is nice, though. And this time she just helps herself to the stick of Old Spice on Renfri's nightstand as she gets changed—no one will care, right?

It's a little weird; it makes her smell like a boy. Or like Renfri, technically. Ciri had never really thought about the fact that she could just buy boy deodorant if she wanted to. 

The shower turns back on—she assumes because of Jaskier. She should probably go ahead and finish getting dressed.

This is really the first time she's going somewhere where she might run into other teenagers. It makes her a little nervous—or, not nervous. More like she gets lost in her head a little bit. She knows she's not super popular. Well, she's popular, but not like people actually like her.

But maybe she could meet people. She's starting high school next year and she could make friends with someone and find out they're going to her school and maybe they'd, you know—they'd  _ like  _ her.

Who does she picture when she imagines it?

The hazy image in her head dispels like steam against a puff of air. 

Whatever Ciri wears has to match her boots.

She pulls out her black ripped jeans and a lacy bralette that she slips into, then tugs on a cropped sweatshirt with a rainbow embroidered near the collar. It makes her feel brave, and stupid for feeling brave.

Jaskier shouts, "Bathroom's free!" through the closed door.

Ciri zips up her suitcase and leaves it in the corner. She pulls out her phone and checks her appearance in the camera—she looks cute, but she wishes she'd asked Yen to pack her makeup. It didn't feel important at the time.

Conveniently, Yen is contouring her face in the bathroom mirror, using a blending sponge to work highlighter over her cheekbone. 

"You'll melt in that," she observes, side-eyeing Ciri's outfit in the mirror.

"It's cold in the aquarium," Ciri argues testily. But maybe she should put a bandeau or something underneath, just in case.

Yen says, "Suit yourself," and goes back to doing her face.

Ciri leans against the doorway, breathing in the lingering steam, and asks, "Can I borrow some makeup?"

Yen's gaze flicks over to her again. "You won't match my foundation. Everything else is fine."

"I mostly just want eyeliner," Ciri says, and takes a pencil when Yen hands it to her. "Thanks."

She joins Yen at the vanity and immediately cringes at their reflections. Her pimples are way more noticeable in this light.

Yen switches to blending the other cheek. "What is it?"

"Do you think it'll look stupid?" Ciri asks. "Without foundation."

"Don't be so caught up in what other people will think. It's overrated." Yennefer puts the finishing touches on her contour and uncaps a bright red lipstick. "Do your makeup the way you like it."

Easier for someone wearing a full face of it to say. Especially when she's mind-numbingly pretty even without it.

Ciri frowns, turning the pencil between her fingers, and doesn't answer.

But she uncaps it in the end, pulling at the corner of her eyelid and trying to keep her hand steady as she draws the line.

"Open your mouth," Yen suggests.

Ciri blinks at her reflection. "What?"

"It's like magic," Yen says warmly, and makes an 'O' shape with her mouth. 

Cheeks heating up, Ciri does like Yen says and goes back to lining her upper lids. It really does help, even if it comes out a little uneven. 

"And stop rubbing at your eyes," Yen adds. She starts putting away compacts and brushes into a little vinyl bag. "It smudges it to hell and looks sloppy. Be ready in ten minutes."

She leaves with her bare feet padding against the carpet.

Ciri sticks her tongue out at Yen's back through the mirror and thumbs at her eyelids on purpose, smearing the dark wings into a grungier vibe.

Perfect.

~*~

Ciri goes back to Renfri's room to swap her bralette for a bandeau she could wear by itself if she gets too hot. She emerges a few minutes later to a mostly empty apartment—Renfri's the only one left, booting her Switch up on the TV.

"Um," says Ciri.

"They're pulling the car around," Renfri tells her.

Ciri says, "Thanks. Are you sure you don't wanna come?"

"Dude, and miss getting this place to myself?" Renfri asks, gesturing with one foot in an arc. "I can finally hear myself fucking think."

"Cool." Ciri fidgets with the hem of her sweatshirt. "Um, what're you gonna play?"

Renfri leans her head back, flashing a crooked smile that reveals one of her canines. "Monster Hunter. You can stay and watch if you want."

Ciri's fingers curl up tighter. She kind of wants to, but she almost feels embarrassed. And besides—

"Um, I promised my friend, but thanks." She drops her sweatshirt and edges towards the door to put her shoes on.

"Chill." Renfri's game starts, blasting music through a main menu screen. "Have fun, kid."

Ciri finishes lacing up her boots and heads downstairs; she beats everyone to the curb, which is a relief. Jaskier is sitting in the back behind Geralt while Yen drives, so Ciri slides into the middle seat and does up the seatbelt.

Yen's already pulling into traffic. She flicks her eyes up and seems to notice Ciri through the rearview mirror—her lips quirk smugly and she doesn't look away, like she's keeping eye contact on purpose. 

Ciri smiles back, fluttering her eyelids.

**Yennefer.**

The drive to the aquarium is uneventful after they pick up Triss, who comes equipped with a giant purse stuffed full of contraband in the form of chocolate and other snacks.

Geralt pouts the whole way about it—then immediately abandons the moral high ground when they get inside and Triss hands him his Crunch n Munch.

Meanwhile, Ciri is splitting a massive bag of sour gummy worms with the sweet-looking kid who is apparently her only friend, passing it back and forth between them so they can take turns taking pictures of the fish.

Yen watches from a distance; they're not actually children, and she's not worried about them running off. It's probably good for Ciri to get some time around someone her own age—someone who understands her with more immediacy. 

And besides, "I wanna talk about yesterday," she tells Triss, purposefully hanging further back to keep Geralt and Julian out of earshot.

Triss hands Yen a palmful of gummy bears. "Oh?"

Yen takes a moment to sift through and plucks out a green one, which she promptly bites the head off of.

Fuck, she really hates apologizing.

"You deserve friends who understand you," she says evenly. "We've been pretty shit."

Triss allows, "You could've been worse."

"We could've been better," Yen counters. 

She eats the other half of her gummy bear, taking in the way Julian appears completely enamored with whatever random and objectively boring fish knowledge Geralt is currently imparting on him. It's a relatable feeling.

"Honestly, I was mostly afraid you all secretly though I was weird or something," Triss admits. She's watching the fish instead of Yen, which could be nerves or the fact that she just loves this stupid aquarium that much. "People… used to gossip a lot when I was younger."

"Never," Yen promises vehemently. "Not about this."

Triss smiles. "Thank you."

"I worry that we—" Yen hesitates. "That  _ I  _ never gave you the space to talk about it. Or whatever else."

Triss is reflectively silent. 

Yennefer beheads two more gummy bears. Up ahead, Ciri laughs and makes a silly face for the camera when Dara takes a selfie of the two of them. She looks happy.

She looks her age.

"You're an important friend to me," Yen says, stubbornly ignoring the way her lip quivers. "You've been the best. I'm not sure I ever learned how to give that back—and now I'm making it about me again."

"Maybe a little," Triss agrees wryly. "But we're okay, Yen—I promise. If I needed something, I would tell you."

Yen glances over at her—the soft freckles on her stunning nose, the premature and joyous hint of a laugh line against the corner of her mouth when it twitches. 

"Would you?" Yen challenges.

Triss huffs out a laugh. She finally eats a gummy bear for herself, then pauses the conversation entirely to watch a school of bright yellow fish— _ Yellow Tang, _ supplies a Geralt-voice in Yen's head—swim by.

"I guess I worry about… being left behind," Triss says carefully. "That right now all the drama and relationships are fun and you like having me around as the voice of reason, but one day you'll all… settle. And suddenly I'll be alone."

Yen grabs Triss's arm with a sudden conviction, the blunted edges of her gel-polished nails curling in her blouse.

Triss turns to her, wide-eyed.

"I will  _ never  _ leave you behind." Yen feels something pricking at her eyes, the familiar rasp in her throat as she tries to keep her voice down. She squeezes Triss's bicep and breathes as the ragged swelling behind her ribs tries to pour through where they touch. "You belong here. You're one of ours."

Triss smiles shakily, a quick flash of teeth. She always looks like she wants to laugh—like she's waiting for an opportunity. It baffles Yen; she wants to give her an excuse.

Triss says, "I believe you."

Yen nods, managing to keep her composure. She lets go of Triss's arm and resumes their slow walk through the exhibit—mostly ignoring the fish in favor of watching the kids, who are now walking with their arms looped together. 

They find Geralt and Julian waiting for them at a crossroads, at which point Triss tells Yen, "I'm gonna steal your boyfriend and camp out at the touch tank."

Yen snorts. "Be my guest. We'll catch up later."

Triss squeezes her wrist with a gentle laugh, then gives Geralt a pointed nod in the direction of the stingrays. He nods back, kissing Julian on the temple before peeling off to follow Triss.

The kids have marched obliviously on and are currently trying to coax a tiger shark into standing still long enough to get a selfie with it.

Julian hops into Yen's field of vision, grinning infuriatingly. "Looks like it's you and me."

Yen rolls her eyes and walks off towards Ciri and Dara, who don't seem like they've even noticed half the adults are now gone.

Julian actually  _ skips  _ after Yen to catch up with her, falling in stride, and then says, "I don't think I've ever heard Geralt talk this much about  _ anything,  _ even Roach."

Yen smiles fondly. "Amazing, isn't it? He and Triss both love this place."

"Yeah," Julian agrees, sounding just as affectionate. "Should we catch up with them later? I mean, petting a mantaray does sound pretty cool. What do they feel like?"

"If only for Ciri's sake," Yen tells him. "I don't have the patience for it."

"Ugh, me neither," Julian babbles, gesturing inanely with both hands. He's wearing several leather bracelets on one wrist, origin unknown. "I wasn't allowed around pets much as a kid, especially cats. I got scratched on the face once and now I kinda have a thing about it?"

Yen blinks rapidly at him, taking in the obnoxious pineapple shirt that looks far better on Renfri. "What?"

"I'm better with them now," Julian says defensively, which doesn't make him any more comprehensible.

Yen keeps walking.

"Ooh, wait, the lighting's really cool here!" Julian says, flapping a hand in her face. "Stay still, do you wanna picture?"

Yen raises her eyebrows. "Sure?"

"Perfect."

Julian pulls out his phone and backs up to get a good shot. 

Yen fluffs up her hair, pursing her lips to make sure her lipstick is still even, and poses with one hip cocked.

"You look like the leader of a coven," Julian informs her, brightly and loudly. "Like a sexy, underwater witch coven that uses poisonous sea anemones and shit to do spells."

Yen snorts in a failed attempt to suppress a pleased laugh, her lips twitching without her permission. It's not lost on her that he still has the camera pointed at her, but there's nothing to be done about it now.

He doesn't ask her to take any pictures for him, and she doesn't offer. There's a part up ahead that goes split-level, though, and they stand together and watch as Ciri and Dara scramble up the ramp. 

Yen has a feeling that Julian would be up there too under other circumstances. She wonders what's keeping him down here.

"She seems happier today," he observes, hands kept busy as he fidgets with a ring on one finger. 

Yen watches Ciri lean over the edge of the railing to peer at a massive sea turtle swimming along the far wall. "Yes."

"And Dara seems like a good friend," Julian adds. "I like him."

Ciri gestures with the bag of sour gummy worms and Dara takes a few steps back.

"I think he's why she ran away," Yen says.

"More than the queer thing?" Julian asks.

Ciri tosses a gummy worm; Dara tries to catch it in his mouth and misses—it must bounce off the landing, because they both immediately run back down the ramp to pick it up.

Yen says, "She's a good kid."

"She is," Julian agrees, and looks over at Yennefer with a warm fierceness that she feels echoed in her spine. "But more importantly, she's ours."

Yen rolls her shoulders back with a nod.

~*~

"If a bird shits on my head," Julian says emphatically, "I'm going to sue God."

Yen's nostrils flare with a silent laugh. They're sitting on a bench along the Nature Trail, which connects two indoor exhibits and purportedly features a variety of native wildlife. 

Most of the wildlife is hiding—except for the seagulls, which Yen suspects aren't supposed to be the stars of the exhibit.

"You'd deserve it," she tells him evenly.

It's been a decent afternoon; she wants to strangle him less than she normally does, in any case.

"Oh my gosh, Ciri," Dara says suddenly, reaching over and tapping Ciri on the arm. "Is that Amelia Kowalski?"

"Shit, it is," Ciri says.

Julian asks, "Who's Amelia Kowalski?" and is immediately, aggressively shushed by Ciri. "Yeesh, alright!"

Dara points at a group of teenagers, probably around his and Ciri's same age, who are walking towards them from the opposite direction they came from. 

"The girl on the end's Amelia," he says, voice hushed conspiratorially. "We went to elementary school with her, but she went to the Gifted middle school instead of IB."

"That's our school," Ciri adds helpfully. "It stands for International Baccalaureate."

Yen, having survived as Julian's TA for an entire miserable fucking semester, knows for a fact that he not only knows what an IB program is but attended one—and clearly terrorized the place so thoroughly that they begged him to graduate at any cost.

"Very cool," Julian tells Ciri.

Yen glances discreetly at the girl in question. She has short, messy hair dyed blood red and a nose ring. Her boots are almost the exact same style as Ciri's, though hers are black.

"We should go say hi," Dara says.

Ciri's face has turned the color of Amelia Kowalski's hair by the time she says, "Um."

Ah.

Yen comments lightly, "She's pretty."

"She probably doesn't remember us," Ciri argues feebly.

Dara says, "I think she's waving at us," and waves back.

"Don't!" Ciri hisses, clutching at the hem of her sweatshirt.

Yen kicks her on the ankle. "You won't get anything you don't ask for. Take a risk."

Ciri scowls at her, which is, unfortunately for her, entirely adorable rather than intimidating. Yen pulls a face back, curling her lip, and Ciri scrambles to her feet.

Just like that, she and Dara are locked in a conversation with the other group of teenagers out of earshot.

"You're such a loving mother," Julian says mildly.

Yen scoffs.

There's an uncomfortable quickness to her heartbeat. What if the other group tries to bully Ciri? Yen really doesn't want to fight a fourteen-year-old. It's not dignified.

"She'll be fine," Julian tells her warmly. "You remember being that age, right? Everything's the worst thing in the entire fucking world, but you can still fix all your problems with ice cream."

Yennefer fixed her problems with tens of thousands of dollars in medical bills and a full scholarship on a sob story.

Merit didn't sell.

Even so, she says, "I know."

A rare quiet settles over them, besides the chittering of songbirds and the much louder squawking of seagulls. 

"I miss pigeons," says Julian. "I mean, some would say seagulls are effectively the pigeons of the coast, but there's  _ subtleties. _ Pigeons have a humbleness to them that I can respect—seagulls think they're better than us."

Yen barks out a laugh before she can stop herself. "That's the most incomprehensible pile of bullshit I've ever heard."

"It's not!" Julian insists. "You know I'm  _ right,  _ Yennefer."

Yen rolls her eyes and looks over at Ciri; she's smiling now, her hands still wringing her sweatshirt while she talks to the group.

"... I never thanked you, you know," Julian says abruptly.

Yen shifts uncomfortably. "For what, not failing you? It was for my own benefit—I couldn't risk you retaking my fucking class. I would've killed you and prison isn't in my five year plan."

Julian says, "For Geralt."

Yennefer loathes playing dumb. It's beneath her in every way. She asks, "What about him?"

"There was a month and a half period where I got  _ really  _ into playing 'Jolene' on guitar," Julian answers.

Yen's nostrils flare. "I don't want to play six degrees of separation with your brain right now, Julian."

She can tell it hits too hard by the way his posture changes. She doesn't apologize.

"I know that if you'd asked him not to, he wouldn't have ever…" Julian trails off, but she'll grant him that measure of obscurity. "I mean, I just—I know it makes you uncomfortable. You don't really like me. And I love him more than pretty much anything and… thank you, for that."

_ What do you love more?  _ Yen wonders. Says nothing about it or anything else that could lead the point of a dagger to somewhere soft.

Remarkably, a crab skitters across the wooden walkway and into the brackish water of the creek.

Julian says, "Forget I said anything," at the same exact time Yen tells him, "It was the way he smiled at you."

"I'm sorry?" Julian asks.

"People like you and I," Yen says slowly, "learned how to be greedy. Geralt doesn't want loudly, or often. He's convinced he isn't made for it."

Julian says softly, "I know."

"And he smiled at you," Yen says, "like he wanted to be wrong."

Julian turns to watch Ciri, and Yen does the same. The whole group is looking up at the treetops with their phones out to take pictures of something Yen can't see; Ciri is grinning from ear to ear.

Yen thinks of Renfri, home alone and probably relishing it, and Geralt, a gentle smile on his face every time a ridiculous looking sea creature brushes against his fingertips.

She asks, "Do you think the most important thing is for the people you love to be happy?"

Julian laughs ruefully. "It's a good thing you already don't have a high opinion of me."

She doesn't correct him.

"I want them to love me back," he tells her. "I'll make them happy myself."

They have the same underbelly. It makes Yennefer's stomach turn.

Ciri turns around and makes eye contact with Yen—she and Dara start heading back their way, but the other group of kids seem to be hanging around waiting.

Yen says, "You're welcome."

Ciri scuffs a mint green boot against the walkway and says, "Um, can we—" she catches herself and lifts her chin, clearing her throat. "We're gonna do our own thing for a bit, 'cause we wanna see if we can get into the Adventure Park. Can we meet up with you later?"

Yen smiles proudly. "Just give me your phone number and tell me when you want to leave. I'll have to take Geralt and Triss to work, but I don't mind coming back to pick you up later if you wanna stay longer."

"Thanks!" Ciri smiles and pulls out her phone. "Let's swap numbers."

Julian asks, "Will you need an adult to sign your waiver?"

"Amelia's mom is here," Ciri explains, "so she can do it. Thanks, though."

She types Yen's number into her phone, texts Yen a single emoji, and then she and Dara practically bolt back over to their new friends.

"They grow up so fast," Julian says, sniffing dramatically and pretending to wipe a tear from his eye.

Yen watches Ciri and Dara fall in step with the others and head for the back of the trail, which leads to the Adventure Park area. She blames what happens next on the humidity.

"I never thanked you either," she says. "For Renfri."

"Being a busybody is a compulsive trait," Julian says flippantly.

Yennefer looks out over the creek; it might be a trick of the light, but she thinks she can see little fish darting about.

"If you hadn't told me about the nightmares, I'm not sure I would've forgiven her," she admits. "And I know it wasn't for me, but I'm glad you did it."

"It was for you," Julian says.

Yen glances incredulously at him.

"I mean, it was for Renfri too, obviously, and a little bit for my own sanity," he continues, painted nails glinting in the sunlight as he gestures. "But I wanted you to know that she really did care. You deserve that much."

Yen makes eye contact with a seagull, its head bobbing as it perches on the railing across from her. She tells it, "I know."

Julian is grinning in her periphery. "Are you actually gonna say 'thank you,' then?"

Yen snorts. "Don't push your luck."

"Unfortunately that's also compulsive," he says brightly.

Yen rolls her eyes. She can feel herself starting to sweat out here; she stands with a quick shoulder roll to fix her posture.

"Let's find Geralt and Triss," she tells him.

Julian coughs lightly and hops to his feet. "Good idea! I do kinda wanna pet a stingray. Ooh, wait, what's the difference between a stingray and a mantaray? Wait, don't tell me, I'll ask Geralt, no offense, you know how it is. Oh wait, wait, do they bite, because if they—"

"Oh my  _ God,"  _ says Yen.

~*~

**_[eyeroll emoji] (3:57 PM):_ ** _ [Two images. The first one is of Yennefer smouldering at the camera, her hair artfully framing her face. She's smiling in the second one, an indulgent curve of her mouth, and a lock of hair has fallen in her face.] _

**_[eyeroll emoji] (3:57 PM):_ ** _ Not to brag but I'm a genius photographer and these are totally profile pic worthy [kissy face emoji] _

**_Yennefer (unsent):_ ** _ Which one do you like better? _

~*~

**-YOU CHANGED YOUR PROFILE PICTURE-**

_ Renfri, Triss, Julian, and 128 others liked your new profile picture. _

**_Triss Merigold:_ ** _ Looking FIERCE [heart eyes emoji] _

**_Renfri Creyden:_ ** _ Hawt. _

**_Julian Pankratz:_ ** _ Hello?? PHOTO CRED??  _

**_Julian Pankratz:_ ** _ Also you look good or whatever [kissy face emoji, flame emoji, dolphin emoji] _

~*~

Ciri ends up staying until closing. Yen parks at the curb with her hazards on and leans against the side of her car, watching for a familiar head of white-blonde hair to emerge from the main entrance.

After a few minutes, another car parks behind her; she waves when she recognizes Dara's father, Ahmed, from this afternoon.

"Yennefer, right?" he asks, coming over to shake her hand. "Thanks for watching them today."

"It wasn't a problem," Yennefer tells him honestly. "Dara is great."

Ahmed agrees, "Yeah, he's pretty cool. They're at that age, though."

Yen hums.

"He told us what happened," Ahmed adds. "Or, what Ciri told him, anyway. We're glad she had somewhere to go."

"Then you might know more than I do," Yen says wryly. "But that doesn't matter to me. She'll stay as long as she needs to."

Ahmed smiles knowingly. "Forgive me if I'm overstepping, but—you're still young, yes?"

"I'm a graduate student," Yen answers.

"I don't think many people your age would take in a teenager," he observes. "Even temporarily. You must have a kind heart."

A lot of people have tried to describe Yennefer's heart. The things it wants, the way it functions. 

Sometimes she thinks it grew crooked like the rest of her.

The doors open with a burst of light and sound—a group of children laughing, followed by a beleaguered but good-natured looking mother. Ciri's arms are linked with Dara and one of the girls from this afternoon; she waves when she sees Yen waiting for her.

Yen tells Ahmed, "That's kind of you to say."

"If you need anything," he says, already spreading his arms to welcome his son into a hug, "Ciri has both my and my wife's numbers.  _ Oof,  _ hey, buddy. Good day?"

Dara squeezes his father tighter. "Hey, Dad! It was awesome. What's for dinner?"

Ciri waits patiently on the edge of the curb.

"Mom wants us to pick something up." Ahmed makes eye contact with Yen over Dara's head, shooting her a knowing look. "We can decide in the car. Ciri, it was good to see you."

Ciri smiles. "Thanks for letting Dara hang out!"

Dara starts heading for the car, but he waves to Ciri one last time and tells her, "Text me, okay?"

"Def!" she answers, waving back. 

Yen walks around to the driver's side and unlocks the car with her key fob. She waves to Ahmed and Dara as they drive away, then gets in and buckles her seatbelt.

Ciri hops in too and sits cross-legged in her seat.

Yen glances over at her as they pull into the roundabout. "Do I have to feed you dinner, too?"

"Not legally, I think," Ciri says cheekily.

Yen rolls her eyes, smirking at her own reflection in the rear view mirror, and asks, "How do you feel about Taco Bell?"

~*~

"Where's Jaskier?" Ciri asks through a mouthful of three-bean burrito.

Yen finishes flicking the rest of the lights on in the apartment and comes to sit with her at the table. "He went to be Geralt's problem at work, thank God."

"You're kinda mean to him," Ciri observes. She dips her finger into a glob of sour cream and licks it clean.

"I really can't emphasize enough that he deserves it."

Ciri seems to consider this. "Geralt thinks you like him."

Yen snorts with surprise. "And you're a tattle-tale, apparently."

Ciri shrugs with one shoulder. She puts her burrito down and reaches for the disgusting, noxious blue soda she insisted on getting with her food.

"I just feel like, IDK, the whole being mean to your friends this is overrated, you know?" she says, then slurps through her straw.

Yen raises her eyebrows and says, "You're in rare form. What'd you do with your new friends, snort cocaine?"

"It'd be easier to do Adderall," Ciri points out—then puts down her drink with wide eyes. "But I'm not on drugs! I just had fun today I guess?"

Yen smiles. "I'm glad."

Ciri picks up her burrito again. "Do you have work to do tonight?"

"Not really," Yen tells her. "But if you wanna do your own thing, I can keep myself entertained."

"Actually," Ciri asks, "do you wanna watch more Bake-Off with me?"

Yen does not say, "Yeah, sure," with any particular amount of emotion.

~*~

They make more popcorn and curl up on the couch, Ciri's socked feet casually nudging against Yen's knee when she reaches for the bowl.

Immediately after the first baking challenge ends, Ciri crunches down on a half-popped kernel and says, "I held hands with a girl today."

Shit, is Yen supposed to pause the TV?

"And came out to Dara," Ciri adds.

Yen pauses the TV.

"How was it?" she asks.

"Which part? Actually, both were really good, I guess." Ciri smiles, glancing between Yen and down at her lap. "Um, I got, like, butterflies like Jaskier was saying? And at first I thought I was just nervous but then I stopped being nervous and it still felt that way?"

Yen smiles back, trying to soften her expression. "That's great. Was it Amelia?"

"No, one of her friends. Her name's Jasmine and she's  _ really  _ pretty," Ciri says eagerly. It's like something changes in her—or bubbles up. Yen is reminded of Julian's face twenty minutes into lecture once his coffee would kick in. "And she gave me her number and her Snapchat and we're going to different schools but I think that's okay 'cause she said we can hang out next week?"

"I think that'll be fine," Yen reassures her indulgently.

"Oh, wait, speaking of Snapchat!" Ciri unlocks her phone and hands it to Yen. "Will you take a picture of me?"

Yen raises her eyebrows. "Sure?"

Ciri scrambles off the couch and flops down onto her air mattress. She makes a ridiculous face—cross-eyed and sticking her tongue out of the side of her mouth—and holds up a peace sign.

Yennefer would  _ never _ be so undignified, let alone around a new crush. But a warm laugh escapes from her throat as she takes the picture.

"There," she says, holding the phone back out.

"Thanks," Ciri says. She climbs back onto the couch and starts typing a caption for the snap. "Jasmine says she doesn't like fake people."

Yen smirks. "Of course."

Ciri taps on her phone two more times and then puts it facedown between them on the couch cushion. Her nails click against the plastic case as she asks, suddenly somber, "Do you think it's bad if I date someone and don't tell my grandparents?"

Yen purses her lips, gaze fixed on Ciri's downturned, wide set eyes. 

"No, I don't," she says. "The only trouble would be if no one knew and someone was hurting you. People who want to hurt you want you to be alone. But you aren't alone, because you have me and Geralt—and the others, too."

"But they, you know…" Ciri bites her bottom lip. "I think I'm—I'm breaking her heart. She left all these messages and I'm kind of all she has since Mom left and—she and Grandpa basically raised me, so?"

Yen hardens her voice, feeling that same snarling righteousness surging between her ribs. "Look at me, Ciri—" and Ciri's head snaps up. "You don't owe anyone anything just because they showed you common decency. Trust is earned—it's not your responsibility to give it to them."

Ciri's eyes are shining; she sniffles, quickly rubbing at her nose and folding her hands back in her lap. A quick nod is her only answer.

Yen softens, almost without her own permission. Just hopes that gentleness will help, as foreign as it often is. 

"What happened with Dara?" she coaxes.

Ciri sniffles again. "It was really nice. I mean, he was really—we just talked and hugged and stuff and it was really good. He's such a good friend."

"Good," Yen says. "You deserve it."

"Thanks," Ciri answers, her voice still watery.

Shit. How does Yen get back the chipper, happy girl who sassed her through a mouthful of burrito?

"Am I… supposed to give you a hug or something too?" she ventures.

Ciri laughs quietly. "Not right now, but thanks."

Yen looks at the remote and considers unpausing the show. That would probably be the most straightforward option—an easy conclusion to a conversation that seems to be waning.

She reaches for a handful of popcorn and says, "Tell me more about this girl. You're not dating her already, are you?"

Ciri laughs louder. "Not yet, jeez! I mean, do you think I could've asked her out?"

"Taking it slow is fine," Yen says with amusement.

"I just said we should, like, get froyo—I mean, I told her that my—that you showed me that new place that was really good and we should go together. So I guess that's a date, right?" Ciri flops back against the far armrest. "What if she thinks I meant it in a friends-way?"

"Then tell her you didn't mean it in a 'friends-way.'"

_ "Ugh,"  _ Ciri says emphatically.

Yen snorts indulgently. "You have money, right? Pay for her froyo."

Ciri pushes up onto her elbows and says, "Yen, you're a  _ genius." _

"I know," Yen says evenly.

"Do you think she'd want a flower, or is that weird?" Ciri asks.  _ "I'd  _ want a flower."

"I'll tell you a secret," Yen says smugly, smirking when Ciri leans in closer. "Everyone wants a flower."

Ciri bites her lip around a smile.

~*~

They do finish the episode of Bake-Off eventually, though Yen is yawning by the end of it. It's been a long few days of little sleep, which she is aware makes her incredibly uncool to care about.

"Um, I think I'm okay out here by myself tonight, if you wanted to sleep in Renfri's room or something," Ciri tells her.

"Are you sure?" Yen asks. "I don't want you to be uncomfortable."

Ciri smiles encouragingly. "Actually, I kinda wanna stay up later tonight? Like, talking to friends and stuff. So it might be easier so I don't have to worry about keeping you up."

"I see," Yen teases. "True motives are revealed."

Ciri crosses her arms with a comical huff. "It's mutually beneficial or whatever!"

"'Or whatever,'" Yen repeats drily, but she's already texting Renfri.

**_Yen (11:52 PM):_ ** _ Being exiled by our charge, sleeping in your room xoxo _

Ciri starts texting too.

**_Renfri (11:54 PM):_ ** _ I'll shelter you baby [eggplant emoji, wet emoji] _

Yen snorts fondly. She stretches, feeling the pull of tension in her back, and then stands. "I'll go get ready for bed then."

"Okay," Ciri says absently.

"Remember that Julian gets in at two," Yen warns, heading for the bathroom slowly. "And the others around three. Don't be doing anything out here they couldn't walk in on."

"Oh my  _ gosh,"  _ Ciri huffs. "I'm not gonna, like,  _ sext  _ in your living room!"

Yen just laughs. She brushes one hand against the doorway, turning back to look out over the room—Ciri is still on the couch, her cheeks a little pink and the set of her jaw indignant. 

Fucking fantastic kid. Yen turns away.

"Yen?" Ciri asks, the petulant edge all but vanished. She sounds younger than she did—vulnerable.

"What is it?" Yen asks the bathroom sink.

Ciri's voice is small. "Can I have that hug, now?"

Yen feels one of her shoulders trying to droop. She straightens it as she turns around and says, "Of course."

They meet in the middle of the room, where they danced the day before. Ciri is only a few inches shorter—Yen idly wonders if she's done growing—but she hunches to hide her face in Yen's neck.

Stiffly, Yen lifts a hand and pats Ciri's back.

Ciri tightens her arms around Yen with a muffled, hiccuped sob. Her fingers pulling at the fabric of Yen's favorite dress, disfiguring the cutout over her left side. She sobs again when Yen cups the back of her neck in an attempt to soothe.

Under the bafflement, thoughts creep in like ghosts—the things Yen wants to say, the same ones she used to haul herself out of the muck when she was fifteen and the scars were fresh on her wrists.

She thinks,  _ You have to be stronger than this,  _ and she thinks,  _ No one else will love you for you,  _ and she thinks,  _ Christ, Jesus Christ, what did you do to deserve this? _

What would she say now? To the crooked girl who picked wildflowers at recess and tried to give them away. To the desperate teenager who met a boy who didn't see her as an abomination and called it good enough.

"You have a beautiful heart, Ciri," she rasps, and she knows that she fed her own on scraps. That she's still coaxing it to grow, that it's her own stubbornness that kept the rot from setting in. "You're worth so much more than you think you are."

Ciri whispers, "Thank you," and the thing between Yennefer's ribs thuds weakly in echo.

Yen holds her tightly and waits for her to pull away first. When she finally does, her eyes are puffy but dry and there's a faint smile on her lips.

"I guess you can go to bed or whatever now," Ciri tells her flippantly, curling a lock of hair around her finger.

Yen opens her mouth to snark back, but what comes out is, "You can knock if you need anything."

Ciri's smile widens. "Okay."

She walks back around the couch and starts scrolling through Netflix for something else to watch.

Yen slips into the bathroom and locks the door behind herself, then turns on the tap full blast. She stares through herself in the mirror, her glassy eyes fading out of focus as she goes through the familiar rhythm of micellar water against cotton, cotton against skin. 

She thinks about painting restorations; the delicate work of wiping something away to get to the pretty thing that's been hidden by time. This does not feel like that. It does not feel like its opposite. What she thinks is,  _ Do they ever worry that nothing will be underneath? _

She's being dramatic; what day of the month is it? There's a damp spot on her collar where Ciri cried on her very straight shoulders.

The water is still running. Yennefer cups a hand over her damp mouth and sobs, once, in a way that feels like indulgence. Other girls got to be pretty while they cried, when she was young—what a pathetic thing to be jealous of. 

She still glances up at the mirror, just to check.

But it's alright, isn't it, to be ugly for a little while? She's grieving. Every horrible thing they tried to plant inside her will die with her, too.

They won't touch the wide-eyed girl on the couch. Yennefer knows how to raze the earth.

A splash of water against her acne-scarred face. Three different creams patted into her skin. A brush through the shine of her hair, due for a trim to shear the split ends.

And at the end of it, the same reflection.

Yen smiles at it. Just to check.

She goes into Geralt's bedroom first to steal one of his shirts from work—booze and cigarette smoke that's wafted in from the rear courtyard, where the patrons spill beer in the sand and make Yen's mouth water for an old vice.

(She quit cold turkey, of course. When she decided knowing the end would spoil the fun.)

It comforts her, though, when she curls up in Renfri's bed and sniffs the collar. She misses him lately, even though she'd die before she told him—still, after all this time.

The pillow smells like Renfri forgot to do her laundry, but it also smells like her aggressively masculine deodorant. Another comfort, alone in the dark. It's easy to breathe deeply.

~*~

Yen doesn't wake up when Renfri or the others get home.

She does wake up for the nightmare.

Renfri is hyperventilating again, her fingers a vice grip against Yen's wrist. Her other arm pressed against her shins, hugging her knees to her chest.

Yennefer mumbles, "Five."

"Too," Renfri wheezes, "dark."

Yennefer reaches blindly for the lamp. The room is bathed in an artificial yellow glow, chasing at shadows.

"Five, princess," says Yennefer.

"Laundry," Renfri says. "My hands. You. The lamp. Door."

"Four."

Blood rushes back into Yen's palm. She rotates her wrist while Renfri's fingers stroke up her forearm.

"You. The bedsheets. My hair. You."

"That's cheating," Yen teases.

Renfri tugs on her earlobe. "Your ear."

Yen sits up and says, "Three."

"My voice," Renfri says. She taps on the wall behind her. "The wall. The AC."

"Good, princess," Yen coaxes. "Two?"

Renfri sniffs under her arm. "My BO. And the pillow."

"One more."

Renfri bites down on her own palm, her eyes slipping shut. Her breathing is slower but still from high in her chest. It looks painful; Yennefer wants to press her fingertips against the breastbone and push the air down herself.

The moment eclipses itself. Renfri spits out her hand and says, "Thanks."

"Come here," Yen tells her, opening her arms. Renfri crawls into them and tucks her head against Yen's chest. "You want the light on?"

"Yeah," Renfri mutters. "Ask me something interesting."

Yennefer is so tired. She pets Renfri's coarse and hopelessly tangled hair, careful to keep her nails from snagging in the knots, and asks, "Do you want kids?"

"You know how some animals eat their own young?" Renfri asks.

Yennefer digs the flat clamp of her molars into her tongue. She knows better than to challenge the implication now, even if it burns her throat when she swallows it.

"You, though," Renfri murmurs. Her fingers are curling and plucking at Yen's shirt reflexively; blunt, dirty nails that look worse and hurt less. "You'll be amazing at it."

Yen swallows again. "How do you know?"

"'Cause you want it," Renfri tells her. "The universe'd fucking rearrange itself for you."

"Do you remember those alternate selves of ours?" Yennefer asks. Her hand stills, fingertips resting against the shell of Renfri's ear. "The ones who didn't grow up broken."

"They're boring," says Renfri.

Yen asks, "What were their families like?"

"Don't know." Renfri's hand presses low against Yennefer's belly, near the womb. "I had a princess dress."

"Before your mom died?" Yen asks softly.

Renfri says, "I can't remember her smile."

Yen closes her eyes. Pinpricks of green and red and the faint illusion of a door. "I remember yours."

"Yeah," says Renfri. "Yeah, you too."

It's enough.

**Ciri.**

Ciri is still awake when Jaskier gets back from the bar. His shirt is unbuttoned halfway down his chest and he has a perfect lipstick print on his cheek, which makes him look kind of like a character in a TV show.

"Oh, good, you're up," he says brightly, fumbling with his shoes. "Geralt wants to know if you wanna go to the barn tomorrow morning or not?"

Ciri finishes her text to Jasmine and looks back up. "Um, what time?"

"Probably ten or so at the latest," says Jaskier. "It's gonna be hot."

"Gross," Ciri says. Then, half-jokingly, "Can I say no?"

Jaskier suddenly looks really serious. "You can always say no."

Ciri hurries to reassure him, "No, I know, I was just—yeah, I'll probably stay home?"

"No problem." Jaskier pulls his phone out. "I'll make sure he knows not to wake you up. You know he isn't chatty in the morning anyway."

Ciri giggles. "Or ever."

"Well, yeah, or ever." Jaskier smiles kindly. "Are you all set out here? Did you do something to Yennefer? Splash water on her and she melted?"

"She's in Renfri's room," Ciri explains, ignoring the last part, which makes no sense but is probably mean. "I'm gonna be up for a while, but I'm good."

"Gotcha." Jaskier jerks a thumb in the direction of Geralt's room. "I'll be up too, so if you need anything just, you know. Actually, you can have my phone number too if you want it—and Geralt's. That would've made all this a lot easier, huh?"

Ciri shrugs and unlocks her phone to click over to her contacts. "Um, yeah, sure."

They trade numbers and Ciri stores them all in her phone just in case. Then, Jaskier tells her goodnight and walks into the bathroom.

That reminds Ciri that she hasn't taken off her makeup—or changed into pajamas. She waits for Jaskier to finish and then uses Yen's makeup remover again, feeling the cooling liquid against her eyelids. 

It feels a little like resetting. She smoothes her Captain Marvel sleep shirt to get the wrinkles out and then takes a mirror selfie, smiling lightly at the camera. It takes three tries to get one she likes enough to post on her Snap story.

**_ashen-swallow:_ ** _ Getting comfy for bed [peace sign emoji, moon emoji, sparkly heart emoji] #nofilter _

She sends it to Jasmine, Amelia, and Dara directly, too, then heads back into the living room to curl up on the couch with her blanket. 

Ciri turned a lot of the lights off when Yen went to bed, and it's nice in here. It's still kind of weird to be camped out in someone's living room; she definitely likes having her own room and a door, even though she's not doing anything bad. But it makes it more of an adventure too.

Ciri yawns. Her eyes start to droop, but she blinks them back open when her phone lights up with a notification from Jasmine.

**_jazzy.aquila:_ ** _ Cute shirt!! [three hearts emoji] _

**_ashen-swallow:_ ** _ Thanks!!!! _

Ciri switches back to texting, smiling with her cheek smushed against the couch cushion.

**_Ciri (2:11 AM):_ ** _ Wait omg have you seen captain Marvel _

**_Jasmine (2:11 AM):_ ** _ Yes!! Second best mcu ever _

Ciri bites her bottom lip.

**_Ciri (2:12 AM):_ ** _ What's the first?? _

**_Jasmine (2:12 AM):_ ** _ Black Panther!!! [crying emoji, heart emoji] _

**_Ciri (2:12 AM):_ ** _ Omg valid Shuri is so cool [blushing emoji] _

**_Jasmine (2:12 AM):_ ** _ Okoye is the best thoooo _

Ciri feels her face heating up while she types. She almost chickens out without sending it—then pictures it like there's a tiny Yen on her shoulder, telling her to be brave.

**_Ciri (2:14 AM):_ ** _ Maybe we could rewatch it together after we get froyo next weekend [grinning emoji] _

**_Jasmine (2:15 AM):_ ** _ Yesss that'd be awesome I'll ask my mom tomo :))) we can probably hang at my place _

Ciri buries her face in her pillow and squeals. There's a part of her that wants to run and throw someone's door open—probably Jaskier's, since he's awake and Ciri doesn't have a death wish—and say the good news immediately. But she can be patient.

Kind of.

She texts Dara instead, then makes a vague post on her Tumblr that no one IRL except for him knows about. It's still kind of new and confusing—but she likes this feeling. She likes that it doesn't have to be a friend-feeling if she doesn't want it to be, and Yen and Geralt and the others will still like her.

For right now, all Ciri really needs to know is that she could stay up talking to Jasmine all night.

~*~

The next morning, Ciri sleeps right through Geralt leaving for the barn. She wakes up half-falling off the couch, one arm dangling off the edge with her cheek smushed on a pillow and her phone face-down on the floor, when Jaskier starts puttering around in the kitchen.

It's a lazy kind of thing, where Ciri stays drifting in and out of sleep for a while. She can hear everyone going about their days—Renfri leaving for the gym, Yen hopping in the shower, Jaskier announcing that he needs  _ total silence  _ so he can record a video in Geralt's room.

Ciri likes that part; she smiles, fingers tugging at the edge of a dream, as music drifts through the apartment.

She gets up for good when Renfri comes back from her workout, dressed in a sweat-drenched muscle tank and gym shorts. 

"'Sup, kid?" Renfri asks, beelining for the kitchen. She pulls a carton of milk out of the fridge and pours a bunch of it into the blender sitting on the counter.

"Um, I just woke up," Ciri says. "How was the gym?"

Renfri dumps in a scoop of what looks like protein powder and adds some ice cubes. "Pretty good, thanks. You workout at all?"

"Um, not really." Ciri watches nervously as Renfri puts the lid on the blender. "I think Jaskier is still—"

Renfri turns the blender on.

Ciri sticks her fingers in her ears right as the bedroom door flies open. Jaskier is grinning in, like, a really creepy way.

"Renfri," he shouts pleasantly over the shriek of the blender, "dearest angel, the light of my life, why the  _ fuck  _ don't you read my texts?"

Renfri looks over in confusion. "I read your texts, Baby-Face."

"Oh!" Jaskier says brightly. "That's not even a little bit better, thank you so much."

Renfri shuts the blender off with a shrug. "Protein intake within thirty. You know the rules."

"Right, because God-forbid you became slightly less muscular than possible." Jaskier makes a defeated gesture with one hand. "Is being able to bench press  _ one  _ of me not enough?"

Renfri detaches the blender from its base and chugs half her protein shake straight from the glass. She burps, puts the blender down on the table, and then wipes at her mouth.

"How much do you weigh?" she asks.

Jaskier sighs super loudly and walks out into the main room. "My third take was probably fine, anyway. Ciri, wanna watch TV?"

"Oh, sure," Ciri says. She pulls out her phone to check her messages. "I might kinda multitask though?"

"A girl after my own heart." Jaskier plops down cross-legged on the floor and snags the remote off the coffee table. "Wasn't Yennefer home?"

The front door opens to reveal Yen carrying four coffees in a cardboard caddy.

"Speak of the devil," says Jaskier.

"Ah, shit," Yen says, though Ciri has no idea to who. "I was gonna surprise you."

Renfri says, "Nah, whatever the fuck you brought me's gonna taste way better than this thing. Thanks, babe."

"Ooh, is that one mine?" Jaskier makes grabby hands at Yen when she sets the caddy down on the coffee table. "Gimme."

"Brat," Yen says mildly, but she hands Jaskier a venti iced coffee anyway, then gives Ciri the strawberry frappuccino she asked for. "Here, sweetie."

"Thanks, Yen!" Ciri tells her. She takes a giant sip and immediately scrunches up her face with brain freeze.

Renfri sticks her protein shake in the fridge and comes to sit in the big armchair, grabbing what looks like a Starbucks version of a protein shake off the table and smacking Yen's butt on the way.

Yen snorts and tells Ciri, "Scoot."

Ciri makes room for Yen on the couch. It makes her feel a little itchy when she realizes Yen is still wearing her shoes or thinks too hard about Renfri being on the furniture all sweaty, but it's not like it's Ciri's house or anything, so she tries to let it go.

Jaskier turns the TV on and starts clicking through his Netflix account until he settles on old Parks and Rec episodes. 

Ciri's never actually seen this show all the way through, but that's okay. She mostly wants to catch up on Tumblr and Instagram, anyway, and see if Jasmine and Dara are awake. 

They make it through around two episodes by the time Geralt gets home; he steals Renfri's leftover protein shake and then goes to take a shower before he sits with them on the couch.

At that point, Ciri's mostly caught up on social media and is getting that jittery bored feeling. She actually really wants to play her game—it's been like four days since she's played, which might be the longest she's ever gone since Grandpa first taught her.

Even when she gets busy during the school year, it's kind of her  _ thing  _ with Grandpa.

Maybe she can just play solo. Or use the dungeon finder.

Ciri grabs her laptop, headset, and mouse from her suitcase and comes back to sit on the couch. She drapes her headset over her neck and boots up the computer, tapping her fingers restlessly against the chassis.

"Um, can I use your WiFi?" she asks the room at large.

"Fuck," says Geralt.

Renfri does that cackling thing again.

"Told you it'd bite you in the ass," Yen says cryptically.

Ciri blinks, looking around the room. "Do you guys not have WiFi?"

"Erm," Jaskier says. "If you just give me  _ five minutes  _ to—"

"It's called 'Ger-bear's Repressed Emotions,'" Renfri says. She reaches over and pinches Geralt on the ribs. "And the password is 'just suck his dick bro,' no spaces, capitalize each word except the 'S's are dollar signs, the 'I's are ones, and the 'E's are threes."

Ciri giggles.

"Clearly my idea," Geralt says drily.

"Also," Jaskier adds brightly, "it's a little out of date, considering—"

"Barf," says Renfri.

Ciri's laptop finishes booting. She tests her mouse sensitivity against the couch—it's not great, but she can probably just grind some lower-level stuff on one of her alts and be fine. 

Then she connects to the WiFi and loads the game, and obviously it defaults to her main that she uses for raids with Grandpa and something lodges in her throat.

Maybe she should call him. Before no one will wanna play with her anymore.

"What's wrong?" Yen asks, and Ciri jumps when she realizes Yen's leaning over to peer at her screen in confusion.

"Um, nothing," Ciri lies. Then gives up when she realizes they're all staring at her and her eyes are kind of watering and it's probably pretty obvious and even though it's probably pretty stupid— "Um, actually, it's just that—I always play with my grandpa and even though I have some characters I play by myself, I just, um… I got kind of sad? 'Cause it's not really the same playing alone and I dunno if—"

"Fuck that," Renfri interrupts, standing abruptly. "I'll play with you. What are you, a Fortnite kid?"

Ciri chews on her bottom lip. "Um, World of Warcraft?"

Renfri laughs. "Shit, seriously? WoW's retro as fuck."

Ciri crosses her arms defensively and says, "It's still really popular. There's a new expansion coming out this year!"

"Yeah, and it's older than you are." Renfri smirks. "I'm fucking in."

"Ooh, me too!" Jaskier says, clapping his hands excitedly. "You just need a computer? I'll go get mine. How many people can play at once?"

Ciri's blood tingles in her fingers. She turns her head to watch the two of them walk into their respective bedrooms and come back with laptops. "Um, for most stuff it's five people in a group."

"Then we'll all do it," Yen decides firmly. "Geralt, go get your computer."

To Ciri's amazement, Geralt doesn't even argue. 

Yen pulls her own laptop out from where it's apparently been stashed under the couch and turns it on.

"Um, you'll all have to download it," Ciri points out nervously. "Which might, like, crash the internet if you try and do it all at once."

"Yennefer," Jaskier asks, "have you ever played a video game in your life?"

"No," Yen says sharply. She shuts her laptop again, apparently listening to Ciri's recommendation. "Ciri will teach me—won't you?"

Ciri smiles encouragingly. "Um, yeah, of course."

"Me too?" Geralt asks, coming to stand directly behind her.

"Well, don't leave  _ me  _ out!" Jaskier insists. He throws himself onto the couch, landing on Ciri's other side.

Renfri puts her laptop down on the armchair and crowds around Ciri's screen, too. When Ciri looks up at her questioningly, she says, "It's your game, kid."

They… want  _ her  _ to be the leader?

Ciri never gets to be the leader.

"Um, okay, let me show you the website first, actually," she decides, taking a deep breath. "'Cause we all gotta decide what to play and I think it's easier to see stuff there."

She closes the game client and pulls up the official website, then clicks on the first gameplay page.

"So, the first thing is, you can play as a bunch of different, um, races, and I don't really like that they use the word like that, but they mean like elves and orcs and stuff," she explains, scrolling down the page a little. "And there's two factions, the Alliance and the Horde, and they're kind of enemies but sometimes they work together."

Jaskier asks, "Is the Horde supposed to be evil?"

Ciri frowns thoughtfully. "Not really. Um, some people say so, but I don't really think so. The Alliance says it's about, like, tradition and order and they definitely say they're the good guys. But the Horde is more about freedom and, like, togetherness, see?"

"Cool, so obvs we're gonna be the Horde," Renfri says.

"Um," Ciri says, "me and Grandpa always play for the Alliance."

Renfri leans over the back of the couch and points at Ciri's screen. "Okay, but why would you play a game like this and  _ not  _ be the motherfucking orc? Team monster or bust."

"Ooh, I agree!" Jaskier says. "Can I be that ugly little goblin? Can goblins be bards?"

"There aren't bards," Ciri tells him.

Jaskier looks at her like he's personally offended. "Everyone's always talking about bards!"

"That's Dungeons and Dragons," Ciri explains patiently. She clicks over to the Classes page and scrolls slowly through the options. "You can be a shaman. That's kind of like a bard, 'cause they use like totems and stuff to help their party."

Jaskier hums. "And goblins can be shamans?"

"Yup! And also, shamans can heal, which is good," she says. "Every party needs a healer."

"I'm sold!" Jaskier announces.

"Usually one tank, right?" Renfri asks. "What d'you play?"

"Oh," Ciri says. She plucks at the hem of her pajamas. "I'm usually the healer. I main a priest with Grandpa."

Jaskier says, "Well, far be it for me to take your thing if you want it—I don't have to heal."

Ciri chews on her bottom lip. She's  _ really good  _ at being the healer—Grandpa always says so—and it's one of the most important jobs.

But maybe it's time to be something new.

"I'm gonna tank," Ciri decides. "I'll stay in front and lead everyone through the dungeons and stuff."

"I think that sounds  _ perfect,"  _ Jaskier tells her. "What say you, Renfri?"

"Can warriors go DPS?" Renfri asks.

Ciri nods.

Renfri smirks. "That's it."

"Cool!" Ciri says. She looks between Yen and Geralt. "Um, what about you guys?"

Geralt hums noncommittally.

"What do you think I'd like?" Yen asks, her eyes twinkling.

"Um, so, the other thing is that each race has a different starting area we have to play through before we meet up?" Ciri explains. "But since you don't really play video games, you could be the same race as me so we start together."

"That sounds good," Yen agrees. "What do you have to be for your tank thingy?"

Hmm. Paladins make good tanks, and then Ciri can always switch back to healing if she wants instead. She clicks on the Blood Elf page to double-check which classes they have.

"We can be Blood Elves!" she says excitedly. "And you can be a warlock—you get a pet demon, and you'd stay in the back and cast super powerful spells and stuff while me and Renfri fight up front."

Yen grins wickedly, which would actually make Ciri kind of nervous if it weren't just a game. "I like the sound of that."

Ciri turns to look at Geralt. "Um, Geralt, I actually think you'd like being a hunter? 'Cause then you can tame different pet animals to fight with you and stuff, which is pretty cool I think."

Geralt's smile is soft. He says, "That'd be good. Thanks, Ciri."

"Definitely!" Ciri clicks back over to the different race options, prepared to choose something for him there, too.

But Geralt surprises her by pointing at the Pandaren and asking, "Can I be that one?"

"Oh my  _ God,  _ Geralt, that's so  _ cute!" _ Jaskier says excitedly.  _ "Please  _ be the panda thing."

Ciri clicks on it to confirm, then says, "Yeah, Pandaren can be hunters! Their story is actually supposed to be really cool."

"Sounds good," Geralt says. "So we have to download something?"

"Um, yeah, and make an account," Ciri explains. "Maybe you and Yen can download it first, and me and Renfri can help set you up?"

"Works for me," says Renfri. "I can always grind some levels later to catch up."

Jaskier says, "Okay, but then I can make my goblin-sona right?"

"I'm not playing with Julian anymore," Yen announces.

"You talk a big talk for someone with a unicorn—"

"I will find you in this game," Yen says evenly, "and I will set you on  _ fire." _

Ciri rolls her eyes with a smile.

~*~

An hour later, Ciri is hunting mana worms with Yen while Renfri and Geralt hunch over Geralt's laptop and Jaskier narrates everything his goblin does out loud. 

The Blood Elves' starting area is brand-new to Ciri. There are big trees and giant crystals, everything awash in warm shades of orange and red and dappled shadows flickering under her paladin's feet. Ciri thinks about all the quests her Night Elf took that involved fighting this faction and feels her stomach twist.

But more than that, she feels something warm and fizzy in her chest, a lightness that steadies her instead of trying to carry her away.

She doesn't know what it means. She knows that it grows stronger when Jaskier laughs joyously and announces, "I think I just committed  _ insurance fraud, _ this is the best game in the  _ world!" _

And when Renfri pats Geralt on the arm and asks, "You okay, sunshine? I'm gonna boot mine up now," and Geralt hums warmly in response—

And when Yen turns to her and says earnestly, "Ciri, I don't understand why we're the only two competent people in this society," and—

It's there, in her throat and the curve of her mouth and the deflating air mattress at all their feet. She knows what this feeling is trying to tell her.

_ You belong here now. _

So it's ironic, what she realizes next.

"Yen," she whispers, because she doesn't wanna bother the others. "I think I'm ready to go home."

Because this place will wait for her. Their shitty couch and constant disaster zone of a shoe rack, and the one bathroom that's constantly muggy because someone's always just showered. 

The people, too. It’s not so hard to leave when she knows they'll want her back.

A gentle hand rests on Ciri's wrist.

Yen says, "I'll take you in the morning."

**Yennefer.**

She tries not to think of it as an ending.

~*~

Ciri shows the uninitiated among them how to use Discord, so that they can keep playing her game together after she leaves. Afterwards, Julian stretches broadly and asks, "Renfri, can I camp out on your floor tonight?"

Renfri is busy stuffing the last piece of pizza into her mouth. She says, "Knock yourself out."

Yen looks over at Geralt first, his little frown of concentration that's still aimed at the computer. But he feels her gaze and looks up, expression immediately softened.

"Looks like I'm staying with you," she tells him.

"Hm," he answers, and she knows he means  _ good. _

Yen glances over at Julian, who just nods.

He's still lucky Ciri forced them all onto a non-PvP server.

They shuffle through the apartment, all getting ready for bed—though she suspects they've created a monster with Julian, who's already pestering Ciri into helping him pick a second character while the rest of the adults power down.

Yen can hear Ciri testily say, "Stop calling them minotaurs—they're  _ Taurens,"  _ from the bathroom while she takes off her makeup, so she's confident Ciri will keep Julian in his place.

Geralt's already in bed when Yen gets in. She sheds her outfit from the day and slips into the shirt he'd just been wearing, feeling the worn cotton settle over her skin. He pulls the covers back for her when she crawls onto the bed.

"Mm, there we go," she murmurs, tucking herself against his bare chest. He tilts her chin up and kisses her softly, which she gladly deepens.

They won't have sex—not with Ciri in the living room. Yen is far too painfully aware of how thin the walls are. But it's nice, just kissing, her hand sliding up the soft plane of his stomach, his thigh nestled comfortably between her legs.

She loves him, this man. Stubbornness and brooding and infuriating gentleness and all.

And he murmurs, "I love you," as if he's learned to read her most wounded thoughts.

"I know," she promises, pulling away to thumb at his bottom lip. "Why now?"

"We don't say it enough," he says.

Yen smiles gamely. Her fingertips trace the cut of his jaw, already stubbled again. "We haven't needed to."

"Hm." Geralt takes her by the wrist and presses a kiss to the pulse point there. It flutters under his breath, her heart betrayed by the life it gives. "I've been thinking. About what I wanted as a kid."

Yen coaxes, "What's that, love?"

Geralt closes his eyes. His throat bobs without sound, the whole of him suddenly fainter in the poor light.

Too much, then. But she knows. She'll want for the both of them, will leave the shreds of everything she claws for at his feet.

And instead he says, "You were right."

Yen's voice trembles. She compensates with, "You'll have to be more specific."

"We can do better than we got," he tells her roughly. Still not looking, but she knows. "We will."

She was a little girl. Oh, God, she was so young and she held the flowers so carefully. She'll stop at the grocery store on her way home tomorrow—cover the apartment in five-dollar daisies.

Someone will want them.

"You'll do it?" she whispers. "You'll—one day?"

Geralt's eyes are bright, sparking. He says, "I wanna adopt."

"Me too," Yen says. Chokes on it and isn't ashamed. "Geralt, I…"

Yennefer likes having the last word. She indulges herself, pressing it into his mouth.

~*~

The morning comes. Yen finds Ciri with her suitcase packed, wearing that seafoam sweatshirt her grandfather packed for her despite the summer heat.

She waits with the keys in the palm of her hand, watching Ciri hug the others goodbye. They tell her to text and hit them up to play games and ask about coming to the barn, and she smudges fresh eyeliner all over her face when she wipes at her tears.

It's a long drive. They listen to Ciri's music and Ciri talks about all the things she's learned about Jasmine in twenty-four hours while Yen smiles patiently and pretends, very thoroughly, that they're heading nowhere important at all.

And then they're in the long driveway, parked behind the same ridiculous little sports car. 

Ciri unplugs her phone from the auxiliary cord. All the curtains are pulled back from the windows of the house; a woman glides briefly into view before turning a corner.

Yen steels her voice and turns away, fixing her gaze on Ciri, whose bottom lip has begun to tremble.

"You will call me," Yen instructs fiercely, "and I will come get you immediately, from anywhere, for any reason."

"I know," Ciri says.

"And I will always,  _ always  _ be on your side," Yen continues. "And if you ever doubt that, I'm the one who's failed you."

Ciri says, "I know."

Yen nods resolutely. She taps her fingers against her seatbelt buckle. "And I'll pick you up at three next Friday."

"Duh," Ciri jokes, smiling wetly. "It's your fault I've got a date."

Yen smiles back, shakily as it is. "I guess you should get going."

"Yeah," Ciri agrees. She unbuckles her seatbelt and hops out of the car, grabbing her suitcase from the back—then gives Yen a little wave. "I'll see you soon, Yen."

Yen waves back, watching her roll her bright pink suitcase up the driveway. 

If it were Yennefer, she wouldn't look back.

Ciri wheels her suitcase into the lawn, drops it, and bolts.

Yen is already standing beside the car, waiting.

"I called you my godmother," Ciri whispers, her face buried in Yen's neck. "When my friends asked who you were. I hope that's okay."

Yennefer closes her eyes. "It is."

"You're gonna be a good mom," Ciri promises. Her fingers tighten in Yen's shirt, clinging. "You're gonna be really good."

And Yennefer whispers, "Thank you."

**Author's Note:**

> I just have a lot of feelings about Ciri & Yen and also found family <33
> 
> More parts are planned for this series! You can subscribe on AO3 and/or follow me [ on Tumblr](https://yoursummerfrost.tumblr.com/) to stay posted :)


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